Bed and Wine Series
by Kaynara
Summary: Sequel to the Bedlam Series. Mal Inara. Simon Kaylee. NC17
1. Chapter 1

Bed and Wine: Part 1

By Kaynara

It's Joss's verse--I just borrow it. And if any of you know the Joss-God and want to put in a good word for me--well that'd be gorram shiny! Leave feedback

---

When it was done, when the lot of them lay dead on the metal grating, Gideon led her to the tiny bathroom. He held her slender hand beneath the warm spray--powerful hand, bringer of darkness--and cleansed gently, washing away the blood. After, he lifted her hand to his face, blew softly on the torn knuckles. Warm breath. It stung a little, made her tingle in places.

"Ready?" he asked.

River nodded, following him past the pile of bodies: eight this time, a good gainful attack. Gideon spoke into his recorder, noting the ship's ident code, the number of kills. A blond-haired, blue-eyed angel of death. River fingered her own dark locks, chopped off to end above the shoulders. When she'd done it, cut it herself, she'd thought of Inara, pictured that beautiful face despairing. Inara had loved River's hair, the straight shiny length of it, having always disliked her own curls. She'd be sad if she knew. But then, Inara was always sad now.

River waited for Gideon to finish speaking and led him back to their ship. There was more to be done this day.

---

Late at night, when his eyes ached from pourin' over news 'ports from the cortex, when he couldn't trust himself to read anymore lest he miss somethin' crucial, Mal lay down alone in his bunk. How had he, in such a short time, grown accustomed to sleeping beside her? One hundred pounds sopping wet--how was it she soothed him, lulled him to dreamless rest? His body still ached for her. He concentrated on the physical need--gorammit, if it wasn't easier than thinkin' on the other parts of him hurtin' for her.

---

This was the first one in more 'n a week. She told Simon that as he stroked her back, brushed wet hair out of her face and smoothed it back behind her ears.

"I can give you something to help you sleep," he offered.

She shook her head. This, the dreaming, was her penance. Wasn't right, takin' a life, and this was her brain's way of tellin' her as much.

"Don't much like shots," she said by way of explanation.

Simon smiled.

"I can be gentle." He kissed her temple. "And after I can kiss it till it's better."

"You know, Dr. Tam, there's alternative ways of medicatin'."

She always wanted him after, wanted to make love. And, guiltily, he usually complied. He'd tried a few times to get her to talk about it, talk about her dreams, but she always shrugged, said she'd much rather communicate with body-language. Then she'd snuggle on top of him, start rubbing up and down. And he was a goner.

He couldn't deny her anything, hadn't the desire to try.

She never dreamed after they made love.

By the time he collapsed on top of her, she was too tired for talk, for nightmares. She cuddled close to his chest and fell into serene sleep.

She wore her best dress the next morning, and by best she meant only. A sweet, baby-doll number with a flower print not quite as bright as when she bought it. Still, it was sunny and cheerful, perfect for April: her birth month. Course back where Kaylee was born, April tended to be brisk, rainy. She'd never been to Sihnon and was excited to see the light, lush city of Inara's descriptions. She was excited to see Inara. The pain of missing her was like a physical ache. She'd even washed her face for the reunion.

Tucking the last pins in her hair, Kaylee hurried down to the cargo bay, where she knew Mal and Simon to be. They were always in the cargo bay lately. Kaylee strolled in just in time to see Mal take a fist to the jaw, stumble back, wincing.

"Tzao gao! Ow!" Mal rubbed the side of his face.

"Sorry," Simon apologized, cringing. After all this time he still had the urge to run and get an ice pack, check the captain for signs of concussion.

"You know, doctor, I'm startin' to regret educatin' you so good."

Kaylee rolled her eyes, tired of this. Ever since River had...well, Simon seemed to determined to learn to fight. Kaylee had begged Mal to do it, not quite trusting Jayne.

"I'm sorry...are you askin' me to beat on your boyfriend?"

"C'mon, Cap'n...please?" She fluttered her lashes, knowing Inara'd be proud.

"You know, Lil Kaylee, one o' these days I'm surely gonna learn to say no to you."

"But not today?"

Mal had just rolled his eyes.

Now Simon and the cap'n spent most mornings down here, beating the go suh out of each other. They both seemed to enjoy it on some level, despite the frequent fat lips and blackened eyes at breakfast. Kaylee cleared her throat, causing both men to turn. She'd rehearsed this part and wanted to get it right.

"I'm goin' to see Nara whilst you're out on the job. I'm takin' the shuttle, and you can go to Hell if you don't like it." Kaylee shrugged, offered Mal and Simon a reluctant smile. "You boys be careful out there today."

---

Kaylee dropped Mal, Simon, Zoe and Jayne near the rendezvous point. "Kaylee? You be back here at the scheduled time, no matter how much fun the nail paintin' and pillow fightin' is, you hear?"

Kaylee stuck out her tongue before turning the shuttle toward the city.

Mal watched her take off, told himself he absolutely didn't wish he were goin' with her.

"Cap'n? We gonna do this thing or just stand 'round lookin' stupid?"

Mal slapped Jayne on the back, hard enough to make the bigger man wince.

"Let's go be crooks."

---

Zoe was feelin' a mite antsy to get back to the ship. Nothin' especial, just a general feeling of this-ain't-rightness. She glanced across the street to the warehouse where the others were.

"Prolly best you wait out here, Zoe," Mal had advised. "You know how funny these local boys can get when a woman's 'round."

It was an excuse but she let him get away with it. They were only makin' a trade, just givin' over some ship parts they'd scavenged in exchange for credit, maybe some information. Captain thought these boys, some of 'em Browncoats, might know something. These days, Mal was willing to take any job in the 'verse, if there was the slightest chance of it yielding a lead. Had anyone seen a small girl with long dark hair? Could anyone give them a clue? Regardless, this job should go smooth enough. Still, meetin' shoulda been over by now.

Something was feelin' all sorts of wrong. 'Haps it was the skirt. She surely wasn't used to wearin' one. She wasn't at all sure she liked it. The captain bought them for her, three or four when he'd seen her pants weren't fittin' no longer. Disconcerting as it was havin' the captain buy her clothes--skirts of all things--she hadn't wanted to hurt his feelings. And truthfully, she didn't have much choice in the matter.

Eight and a half months: the time was coming. Sometimes, lyin' in bed nights, she missed Wash almost more than she could stand. She wanted more 'n anything for Wash to hold their little girl, to see the baby in his arms, cradled against his chest. If she closed her eyes, squeezed 'em tight, she could almost see her Baby holdin' her baby, his blue eyes wide, his grinning lips dipping down to kiss the tiny palm.

"Hell, Zo," he'd say. "Good work."

"You're not scared anymore?" she'd ask. "Not worried about havin' a baby, life we lead?"

"Me, worry? Now you're talkin' crazy, sweetie. Somehow I think a daughter of yours can take care of herself. Run away boys, this one's a man-eater."

Zoe smiled, lost in her reverie. She jerked to attention as Mal burst through the door, gun drawn. Jayne was close on his heels, Simon's slack form slung over his shoulder. Oh, go suh, what the hell kinda trouble had those boys gotten themselves into?Then she felt a wicked pain tear through her insides. Oh, go suh.

---

"Calling Kaylee." Mal held the 'com up to his face. "Kaylee, get your ass back here."

"What's up, Cap'n?"

"Well, Lil' Kaylee." Mal loaded his gun, glanced around the corner and ducked back down. "We're leavin' this world a mite earlier than scheduled. Job went somewhat southerly. Your boyfriend's feelin' a little lightheaded and our contacts seem to have skipped town, leavin' some very unpleasant folk in their place."

"Hell, Mal, thinkin' our boys was drove out by the unpleasant folk."

"Ain't interested in technicalities, Jayne. Either way, don't seem we're gettin' paid today. How close are you, Kaylee?"

"I'm lockin' in your coordinates now. Ten minutes maybe?"

"Might wanna hurry a bit. These boys seem kinda tetchy."

"And Zoe's having the baby," Zoe added.

"And Zoe's havin' the--" Mal dropped the 'com. "Wait, what?"

---

Jayne lay Simon out on the floor of the shuttle, pulled the doors closed behind him just before a stream of bullets hit them like hail.

"They're on, go!" Mal yelled up to Kaylee. A little awkwardly, he patted Zoe's hand, fast deciding that was the only part of her he could legitimately touch. "You just hold on now, we'll be back to Serenity in no time at all."

Zoe nodded, bit down on her lip.

Mal left her, stumbling as Kaylee lifted the shuttle in a shaky takeoff. He bent over the doctor.

"Well?"

"He's breathin'," Jayne said helpfully.

"That's real shiny. Now wake him the hell up!"

Jayne frowned, nudged the doctor with his toe.

"Don't think he's gettin' up any time soon, Mal."

Mal cleared his throat, eyed Zoe with a sideways glance.

"I, uh. Don't 'spose you've ever...?"

Jayne's eyes went wide, realizing where the captain was going with this.

"Hell, don't look at me!"

The shuttle dipped dangerously, sending both men careening to the side. They grabbed at the walls to stay upright.

"Kaylee!" Mal shouted. "Fly less lousy."

"I'm tryin', Cap'n, but I'm no expert at flyin' one of these on a good day, let alone when she's damaged. Remember the part where you only hired me to be mechanic?"

Again, they shook, tilted nearly vertical. Mal felt his stomach roll and wondered whether he'd be sick.

"Kaylee! I'm gonna throttle that girl," he muttered to Jayne, who looked more than a little queasy his own self.

"Okay!" Kaylee called back, relief in her voice. "I think I see a place to take her down for a landing."

"Serenity!" Mal shouted. "I wanna land on Serenity."

"Serenity's parked kilometers away and we got wing damage on account o'the gettin' shot at. Think they mighta hit the engine too."

Mal looked at Zoe, started to feel nauseous again. Now they were without a doctor and without an infirmary. Shiny.

"Jayne, you wake him the hell up, and that's an order."

"How my 'sposed to do that, Mal?"

"Don't much care if you do it with kisses. Lest you want a crash course in gynecology, I'm thinkin' you'll find a way." The last he muttered under his breath. Jayne rolled his eyes but started swatting at the doctor's cheeks.

Mal staggered into the cockpit as Kaylee bounced them down for a landing in what appeared to be a pile of mud. The engine made a sound like a whimper, moaned and died. Mal righted himself, preparing to yell at her, but Kaylee was already unbuckling her safety restraints, cooing and caressing the walls of the shuttle.

"Oh, my poor baby," Kaylee murmured, stroking. "Mama's so sorry for hurtin' her honey."

Mal sighed.

"Kaylee? I'm thinkin' another mama and baby are havin' to take precedence over my boat, which you will be fixin' by the way, soon as this is over."

Kaylee rolled her eyes and slipped past Mal to where Simon was, knelt beside him.

"Poor thing's really gonna have a goose egg," she murmured, stroking back his hair. "Shame that brick fell on his head 'fore the fightin' started, after all the work he went to learnin' to hit folk."

"I'm cryin' on the inside," Mal muttered.

"You got any, uh, special ways o' wakin' the boy up?" Jayne asked wickedly.

Kaylee grinned.

Mal groaned.

"Don't answer that." He threw open the shuttle doors, squinted out into the sunlight. "Looks like there's some sorta edifice a few hundred meters out. Say we head for that."

Jayne lifted Simon, tossed him over his shoulder.

"Don't matter none, Cap'n. You know what you gotta do."

"What the hell you ramblin 'bout, Jayne?" Mal muttered. He motioned for Kaylee to help him move Zoe.

"You know who you gotta be wavin' right now."

"I hope you're not suggestin' what I think you're suggestin'."

"Bet Inara knows where we can find a medic, 'haps even an actual hospital."

"She ain't at Ginny's," Kaylee said before Mal could explode. "She ain't there no more. Left her friend's house more 'n a month ago, picked up and moved outta the city."

"Did you, uh, did you see her?" Mal asked casually. They were almost to the structure--a gorram barn. Couldn't be a nice house with beds and the like. He glanced down at Zoe, amazed at her stoicism. Long as he'd known her, woman had redefined the word endurance.

"No. She was workin', teachin'. That's what she's up to now." Kaylee rubbed Zoe's back lightly, feeling cruelly pleased at the way Mal was listening but pretendin' not to be, all wide eyes and bated breath.

Now he turned to her, artifice forgotten.

"She's teachin' whorin' school?"

It wasn't a joke; he sounded hurt.

Softening, she sighed.

"No, Cap'n. She's teachin' dance." Ballet and ballroom, all manner of pretty. "Her mama used to be the best there was, Nara knows 'nough to get by."

"Oh. Well. Good for her." Mal cleared his throat, lifted Zoe to carry her the last few steps into the barn. "Jayne why don't you see if you can't find the farmhouse; I figure there must be one nearby. See what they gots in the way of supplies. Kaylee, why don't you help me make Zoe comfortable over here? Let's move, people."

---

Inara demonstrated the step once more, slow and deliberate so the others could master it. She hid a smile as her partner's hands trembled against her waist, his palms wet through her pink unitard.

"That was lovely, Caleb."

The boy, no more than fourteen, blushed at the praise.

"Now, I want you all to try it out in our last few moments. Good work today, boys and girls."

Pleased with them, she moved aside to watch, balancing against the bar.

The door opened, revealing a man silhouetted against the just-setting sun. He stepped out of the light, revealing himself.

He held a hand up to his eyes, scanned the studio.

"Mandy, get yourself out front, your mama's waitin' on ya," he called.

Seven year old Mandy trotted toward the door, hurrying into her shoes.

"Comin', Daddy." She reached up to touch Inara's wrist. Inara knelt to the girl's level.

"I'm real glad you're our teacher now, Miss Serra."

Inara smiled, grateful she'd had an education in masking her emotions. Quite often it proved an invaluable skill in any trade.

"I'm glad for that too, Mandy. Run along now with your father, I'll see you next week."

"You best be gettin' home too, Dancin' Lady." The father lingered, watching the young couples still scattered across the dance floor, laughing, playing now that the lesson was through.

Amused, Inara raised a brow.

"Oh?"

"Didn't ya hear 'bout the curfew? They decided at the meetin' last night, half the town was there."

"I mostly keep to myself, Mr. Barnes. What's this about a curfew?"

"On account o' the damned Independents. Gorram Browncoat hwoon dans." The man made a move to spit on the floor, glanced at Inara and changed his mind. "Word is a faction of 'em is risin' in these parts, preyin' on folk that's fool enough to believe that bun tyen shung recording, 'scuse my language, ma'am."

"Of course," Inara murmured.

"Anyhow, our sources say they's been meetin' nights, in secret, down at the old Tucker farm. We surely ain't gonna allow no traitors in our fine township. You understand, miss, we worry especially for the kids. No son nor daughter o' mine gonna be goin' 'round with Independent scum. Rather see 'em swingin' from a tree branch on town common than wearin' a long brown coat."

Inara met the man's eyes, forcing her own to appear composed, appropriately concerned.

"I understand, Mr. Barnes. Now, if you'll be kind enough to excuse me, I should see to my students."

"Oh, 'course, sure." He hesitated at the door, gaze sweeping uncomfortably over her dipping scoop neck, the long flowing skirt that swirled around her legs. "My Mandy really loves you to bits, you know."

"She's a sweet girl, talented. No matter how long I stay, you should see that she keeps up her dancing. She could go far."

"Well, hopefully you won't be goin' nowhere soon, Dancin' Lady. You're just the sorta classy, law-abidin' lady a town like ours needs."

---

"Help me raise her skirt, Captain."

Mal looked at Simon as though the good doctor had lost a few brain cells with that clunk to the head.

"Never mind." Simon blinked in an attempt to clear his vision, which was still kind of swimming. "You go stand by her head. Kaylee? A hand?"

Jayne strode in with a laundry basket full of supplies. He glanced down at the scene on the ground, dropped the basket and threw up a hand to cover his eyes.

"Dear God, it's horrible!"

"Just give me the blankets," Simon told him, rolling his eyes.

"Hell, they should vid this and show it to teenagers." Jayne scooted around to stand by Mal, out of view of the action.

"Should show it to that one," Mal muttered, nodding his head at Kaylee.

"What'd you say, Cap'n?" she demanded.

"Hmm? Nothin'. Doc, what else you need?"

"Oh, I don't know, a CAT scan?" He rolled his neck, trying to ease out the kinks. "Was anyone home up at the house?"

"Nope, place was deserted, look like they left in somethin' of a hurry too. Think I nicked some shiny trinkets though."

"Jayne!" Mal held up the bottle of whiskey. "I don't think this is what Zoe's needin' just now!"

"Hell, Mal. That's for us."

Simon timed Zoe's pulse against his watch, stood up.

"You're doing great, Zoe."

"How much"--she gritted her teeth--"longer."

"Oh, could be a few hours. The first baby tends to come more slowly. I think my mother was in labor for almost a whole day-ow!" Kaylee pinched his arm none too lightly. He noticed Zoe's stricken expression.

"I'm sure it won't be that long, honey," Kaylee said gently, patting Zoe's knee.

"No, no, I'm sure it won't because--it won't." He stood, squeezing Kaylee's shoulder. "Mal, could I, uh, see you in private for a moment?"

"Sure, Doc." Mal tread gingerly, careful not to go anywhere near Zoe's legs. "What's the problem?"

"Well, I'm tired and hungry and my head hurts and, oh yeah, I'm delivering a baby in a gorram barn!"

"And doin' a fine job of it, may I say," Mal offered, cringing as Zoe let out a moan.

"I have my medical bag, whatever Jayne stole from those farmers. And a ship's captain, mercenary and mechanic to assist as I deliver my second baby ever." He watched Jayne take a swig of the liquor, pass it to Kaylee who hesitated before doing the same. "I think you should wave Inara."

"I'm sorry, when'd she get her medical degree? Did I miss that?"

"Mal, she's been here a couple months. It's possible she knows another doctor, someone with proper supplies. And no offense, but she might be more useful than the rest of you. She did help me do this once before."

Mal cleared his throat.

"Doctor."

"Yes, Mal?"

I don't wanna. That's what he felt like sayin'. He watched Kaylee use her sleeve to blot Zoe's forehead, sighed.

"Jayne, you and me takin' a walk up to the farmhouse. Gonna call for reinforcements."

---

"You're...in a barn? And Zoe's having her baby?" Inara looked confused, then amused, then concerned in turn.

"Just get over here. I mean, if you ain't otherwise engaged."

She lifted her chin, met his eyes on the screen. He felt the rush of lust to his belly, hard enough to make him groan.

"I'll have to borrow a rider, it might take a little while."

"Well, we'd be much obliged."

"Of course. Tell Zoe I'm on my way."

Mal turned off the screen and sighed.

---

"Inara!" Kaylee glanced over, not quite believing. She squeezed Zoe's hand, even though the woman seemed to be asleep for the moment, raced over and flung herself into Inara's arms. "Oh, I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too, mei mei," Inara murmured, clinging gratefully. She released Kaylee and walked over to Mal.

"Hello, Mal," she said cooly.

"Inara. Mighty good of you to help us out."

She handed the bag she brought to Simon, who began ciphering through the supplies.

"Mal, there's sort of a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"The kind where a bunch of men with guns come to kill you."

Mal sighed and glanced at Zoe, turned quickly when he saw the doctor was examining her.

"You'd think I'd be used to that particular problem by now."

"They saw Serenity land this morning. They think you're part of the Independent rebellion that's been rising here. I suppose they aren't wrong, exactly."

"The hell they ain't. I ain't leadin' no uprisings, ain't fightin' no gorram war. Just givin' some ship parts to some local boys. And by givin' I mean sellin'. Can't you just tell them that?"

"They're comin' to burn the farmhouse. That's where the Independents had been gathering. A few of the loyalists flew over here this afternoon, saw the remains of my shuttle near the abandoned barn."

"My shuttle."

Inara shook her head. "You certainly have a way of being in exactly the wrong place at exactly the wrong time."

"Guess I'm just gifted that way. How soon 'fore they get here?"

"They were leaving town as soon as it was dark." She glanced out at the night sky.

"This is not my favorite day ever," Mal muttered. "Okay, people. Here's the plan. Jayne, you and Inara take her rider to get Serenity. She knows this rock better 'n us. Try to get my boat back here in one piece."

Inara nodded and rose, not yet realizing she was doing it again. Taking orders from Mal, being one of his crew. She'd realize it later that evening. Then she'd feel like screaming.

"Okay, Doc." Mal moved over to Zoe like a man on his way to the gallows. "Let's the four of us do this thing."

---

"Okay, Zoe. You're doing great." Simon smiled encouragingly. "It won't be long now."

"Said that an hour ago, Doctor," Zoe murmured, teeth gritted.

"Want me to hurt him for you," Mal offered. "Really, I don't mind, wouldn't be no trouble."

She smiled faintly.

"Can hurt him myself, sir." Anyway, it wasn't the doctor's fault. Of course Wash's baby would be as obstinate as her daddy. Man could be stubborn, determined as anything in the 'verse. He surely was with her, creeping up on her, stealing his way closer each day, slipping past all her carefully-crafted barriers. He'd made her laugh, and she'd been lost.

"It's almost time to push, Zoe."

Oh, ai yah tyen ah. Mal squeezed Zoe's hand reassuringly, noticed Kaylee was doing the same on her other side.

Zoe was slipping away. A part of her stayed in the room, eyes on the doctor kneeling between her legs. That was all manner of awkward. But Zoe no longer minded, no longer felt the pain. She was going someplace that was elsewhere.

The doctors instructions, Kaylee's words of encouragement--all of it faded. She was on a beach, the stars pressing down on her like pin pricks of light in an ocean of black velvet. At her feet, the surf crashing soothingly. She watched it ebb and swell for a long time, patient, waiting for him.

He came from the water, though his clothes weren't wet. His pants were rolled up to the knees, his feet bare. She didn't run to him, just watched him approach.

"Hey, Zo." He sat beside her in the sand and took her fingers in his. Together they watched the waves.

"I miss you, Husband," she said finally. No tears now, just truth. "It ain't fair."

"Yup, nothin' fair about any of this."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, Zo." He took her face in his hand and kissed her, his mouth soft and insistent, coaxing her lips apart. "Now you sound like the captain. Mal prolly thinks he's responsible for the rain."

"If only it'd gone down different, if only I'd seen it comin', pulled you outta that chair sooner."

"If only I'd taken a job on another heap of go suh. If only I weren't attracted to amazon women with legs like a goddess." Wash grinned, recalling those glorious thighs wrapped around his head, pressing his ears as he rocked her world. "You really wanna go down that road, Zo? I don't."

"I want our daughter to know her daddy."

"Zoe." He looked surprised, amused at her. "She will. I know you'll make sure of that."

"You're leavin' me, Husband, aren't you."

"Oh, I'll be around. Gotta keep an eye on my girls."

He kissed her temple, stroked a hand through her hair.

"Wait. Her name. What do you think of-"

"It's perfect, Zo."

And then he was gone, taking the beach and the water and the stars with him. Zoe was back in the barn, holding out her arms for the baby Simon pressed into them.

---

"Cap'n, you smell smoke?"

Mal followed Kaylee outside. Across the fields he could see the gray cloud rising. The farmhouse was on fire.

"Tzao gao, this is about to get all manner of unpleasant."

"Look!" Kaylee shaded her eyes as the lights beamed down on them from above. "They're here. Jayne and Nara, back with Serenity."

Jayne carried Zoe on board, settled her in the infirmary with Simon and went to start the ship. Kaylee followed with the baby.

The men arrived on horseback just as Mal and Inara were carting on the last of the baby supplies she's brought. Ten or twelve strapping lads and all of 'em armed.

They pulled up in front of the ship

"That you, Dancin' Lady? What are you doing with these Browncoat wang ba dan?"

"Gorramit, I let her around my daughter!"

"She's nothin' but an Independent whore! You hear that, Dancin' Lady? You got a lotta nerve comin' here, bringin' Alliance trouble down on me and mine."

"Please." Inara held out her hand. "No one is trying to bring trouble to your town."

"They hell they aren't. These friends o' yours was dealin' with the local rabble rousers, helpin' em build a fleet or some such."

"Oh, please." Mal rolled his eyes. "Parts was only good for two ships tops."

"Mal, why don't you not speak?" Inara suggested. "And really, he's not my friend. More like an old acquaintance Very old."

Mal glared at her a second, turned back to the company.

"Gentleman, I'd advice you to turn those pretty horses 'round and ride out. Elsewise, I'm gonna give my ship leave to fire on ya."

One of the men scoffed.

"Ain't she just a transport ship?"

Mal looked surprised.

"I--she's got guns aplenty, and lest you wanna experience 'em up close and personal, you best be leavin'. I assure you, me and mine'll be doin' the same."

For a moment the men conversed in whispered tones. Finally, the one who seemed to be in charge spoke.

"You come back to these parts and we'll see y'all hanged on town common."

"Thanks a bunch for the hospitality!" Mal called as they rode off in the direction of town. "Mighty fine neighbors you found, Inara."

"They liked me just fine before you decided to visit. You do have quite a way with people."

"Can we talk on this later? I need to sleep for a few hours and blot about a hundred images from my brain."

"I should be going anyway. I have students coming early tomorrow."

Mal raised his brow.

"I'm sorry--you actually thinkin' on stayin' here?"

"I have a life here, Mal. Your amicable nature probably cost me a few pupils, but--"

Mal wasn't smiling any more.

"Inara, no way in the 'verse am I leavin' you here with these people."

"You ordered me off your ship. You no longer have a say in how I conduct my affairs."

"You're not dyin' in this gorram go suh township, you hear?"

"I'm sorry, Mal. I'm a bit confused. I thought you didn't want me dying on your precious ship? Make up your gorram mind!"

"You gonna walk on the boat, or am I gonna have to carry you?"

She shook her head, folded her arms.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, you hear that? She thinks I wouldn't--" He stopped, realizing it was only the two of them. "Get on the damn boat!"

"Make me!" A second after she said it, she regretted it. A second later she was over his shoulder, his hand holding her legs just under her bottom as he stormed on ship, used his free hand to close the airlock.

"Jayne, we're all aboard, take us outta the world!"

He set Inara on her feet, faced her.

She lifted a hand to slap him, changed her mind at the last minute and let it fall to her side.

"You feel like hittin' me?" Mal lifted her hand and brought it up to his face, held it there against his cheek. "Go right ahead. I'm sure I deserve it, darlin'. Prolly worse."

Unwillingly, she met his eyes and for a second he held her there, immobile. Then she removed her hand, took a step back.

"Do me a favor, Mal. Don't touch me again."

Mal watched her ascend the stairs, a cool queen in her leotard and ballet flats.

--

Inara sat on the bed while Kaylee changed out of her ruined sundress. She folded the stained garment and laid it over her chair.

"Oh, well," Kaylee sighed. "Not like I got much call for wearin' pretty things. Doubt we'll be invited to a fancy shindig any time soon."

Inara smiled, patted the bed for Kaylee to sit beside her.

"Maybe we can wash it, mei mei." She'd give Kaylee something of hers if only her entire closet hadn't been abandoned in a little town north of Sihnon. Some of her things were still at Ginny's. Perhaps her friend could ship some items; she'd have to wave her.

"No worries," Kaylee said, noticing Inara's frown. "You just feel free to borrow anything you want. 'Course it'll all be a little big on you--but hey, coveralls 'sposed to be roomy, right? Sure Zoe has some things too, and River...well, all her stuff's still in her room, what there is of it."

"Still no leads?"

Kaylee shrugged, lay down with her head in Inara's lap.

"Oh there's been plenty o' leads. Just that nothin' pans out. Simon and the cap'n was really hopin this time'd be different, that we'd learn somethin' promisin'."

"How is he? Simon..."

Kaylee played absently with Inara's hair, twirling a glossy curl around her finger.

"He's...Simon. Blames himself for not protectin' her."

"That mindset's a common one on this ship."

"Sometimes I think he's becoming every day more and more like..." Kaylee trailed off, met Inara's eyes guiltily. "I love the cap'n to bits, but never did want Simon to be like him."

"Mal's not an easy man," Inara admitted. "Still, I can't see the doctor going down that path."

"He's just so angry, at himself I mean. Oh, he's still sweet as can be with me, still a good doctor, gentle and caring. But underneath, he's so mad. Been takin' fighting lessons from the cap'n, learnin' how to hit and take a punch."

"Oh, my. That sounds...potentially catastrophic." Mal and Simon did tend to antagonize each other.

"Funny, but since they started beatin' on each other, they been gettin' along a little better."

"Men are strange creatures, Kaylee."

"You said it, sister."

Inara smiled.

"Thank you for offering me your room. The shuttle isn't exactly...I hope it isn't too much trouble."

"Are you kiddin', Nara?" Kaylee flung her arms up, engulfed her in a hug. "It's so shiny to have you back, even if the cap'n did basically kidnap you."

"In his own demented way, I'm sure he thinks he was saving me."

"So you two gonna start clawin' at each other again? Fightin' all the time?"

Inara laughed.

"Even when Mal and I were...well, we still fought all the time."

"Well, sure. But didn't that make it hotter? The both of you, all wet and wild, tearin' into each other in the infirmary. Oops!" She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Wasn't 'sposed to say that."

Inara paled slightly.

"How did you...?" She shook her head, rose to change into one of Kaylee's t-shirts for bed. "Some day, when I'm long gone from this ship, promise me you'll say that to Mal."

And she smiled, imagining his ears going red as the ruby she still wore under her clothes.

---

Mal knocked briefly on the door to the infirmary before entering. When he saw she was feeding the baby, he slapped a hand over his eyes.

"Didn't see nothin', backin' outta the room now."

"It's okay, sir; think she's asleep."

Mal gave Zoe ample time to tuck herself back in her shirt, lowered his hand hesitant-like.

"We've seen each other without clothes before, sir."

Bathin' in mountain ponds and forest streams, treating injuries. You couldn't get through a war with someone without knowing 'em inside and out.

"Yeah, but there wasn't a little person attached to you then."

He pulled a chair up to the bed, stroked a hand down the baby's cheek, marveling at the soft gold of her skin.

"You wake her, you take her," Zoe warned. But she was smiling. Mal reckoned he hadn't seen her smile like that, really smile, since before losin' Wash.

He cleared his throat, took Zoe's hand between his. She seemed surprised but didn't take it back.

"You did real good today, Zoe. Real shiny. That husband o' yours woulda been mighty proud." He coughed, slid his gaze to the baby as Zoe's eyes filled. "You think of a name for this little darlin' yet? 'Cuz I got some good ideas."

"She's called Raven," Zoe said before he could suggest any.

"Raven, huh?" Mal stroked the smooth cap of black hair, trailed a finger over a tiny ear. "Guess that's a fitting name for a girl whose daddy flew with the birds."

"Guess it is, sir."

They sat there a long time, watching Raven sleep.

---


	2. Chapter 2

---

They touched down after sunset, left the ship on a dusty stretch of desert and headed for town.

When they reached the main square, River tied her hair back and took up her axes. Gideon helped her adjust her belt, securing the guns there.

"Our sources say they landed three hours ago. Probably resting now. Full."

"No." River shaded her eyes from the last glares of red and gold, squinted across the common to the small, white church. There. That's where they waited. "They never stop. Nothing satisfies the hunger."

"One ship. Shouldn't be more than ten."

"And still they killed half the town."

Gideon had to sprint to keep up with her now. She ran over the cobble-stoned road, tore open the church doors. He aimed his gun, watching from the corner of his eye as she attacked two with her axes. She took them down one after the other: a clean, slicing arc over the female's neck, a fatal blow to the male's chest. Gideon found himself unable to look away, mesmerized by her movements, so graceful as to be almost a dance. He didn't see the one come at him from behind, sink teeth into his shoulder.

He screamed.

River turned, taking a glancing blow from a Reaver knife. She felt the blood drip down her arm, ignored the pain and put a bullet to the guilty party's head. She leapt over two human bodies like a creature of flight, landed next to Gideon. She drew his attackers away, teased them as she inched closer, stepped just out of reach. She killed them both with their own swords, letting them fall together at her feet. Then she went back for Gideon, extended a hand.

He took her slender white fingers, let her pull him up.

"You're hurt. Need a doctor."

"I'll be fine," he said. He watched as she tore off a slice of her skirt, used the fabric to bandage his neck and shoulder.

"You'll live."

"I will." He smiled. "This rutting town has to have an Inn or some such. Let's sleep a few hours in real beds."

She followed him out of the church.

---

Whenever their cash flow flowed a little lighter than normal, the first thing to go was the heat. Inara shivered, hurrying into her clothes, or River's more accurately. She stepped into black leggings, pulled one of River's flowy dresses over her head. With the bodice let out, it fit well enough. Inara twisted her hair back from her face, studied her reflection in Kaylee's mirror.

One thing was certain: no one would mistake her for a companion. She didn't look like a woman of restraint and grace and mystery, a well of passion to be tapped at appropriate intervals. She looked like a girl who lacked the good sense to choose both friends and wardrobe. How was it this place felt like home again? Perhaps because Serenity never stopped feeling like home, even after Mal made her leave.

---

Kaylee jumped out of her seat at the baby's cry, rousing Zoe who was half asleep at the table, head on her forearm.

"I'll get her!"

"Oh, no you don't, Kaylee!" Inara left her tea cooling on the counter, prepared for a battle. "You've taken her the last three times."

"Aw, c'mon, Nara. I love when she's all sleepy and cuddly. Aunty Kaylee just adores you--ain't that so, Raven?" She glanced over to the spot in the common area where Mal and Jayne had set up a cradle.

Zoe shook her head, amused with them. Why was it no one fought over her daughter at 3AM?

"Best let Kaylee take this one, Inara. Think the captain wanted to see you."

"Right now?"

"He said for you to head on down to his bunk soon as possible."

"Did he say what this was regarding?"

Zoe shrugged.

"You know the captain and explanations. He doesn't really do 'em."

Inara smiled at the baby, whimpering softly into Kaylee's neck now.

"Next one's all mine," she said playfully, kissing Raven lightly on the head.

"Zoe," Kaylee said when Inara was gone. "Did the cap'n really wanna see Nara?"

Zoe smiled and took Raven from Kaylee, settled the baby at her breast.

"Course he did, Kaylee--I'm no liar. Believe he also mentioned somethin' bout gettin' in a nap 'fore dinner..."

Kaylee grinned.

"Raven, your mama's a real badass."

Zoe smoothed back the baby's hair.

"She knows."

---

An hour to clear his muddled brain--that's all Mal Reynolds wanted. He wouldn't make any decisions about their next job till he thought on it awhile, preferably after an hour or so's shuteye. His head hurt, ached from trying to ration food and fuel for six grown-ups and a tiny screaming thing that kept them all up nights the past few weeks. He felt for Zoe. Woman prolly didn't have the slightest notion what she was gettin' herself into. Mal was surely surprised plenty. Back on Shadow, he hadn't exactly spent much time around babies. Shadow. Rutting hell, he didn't want to go back to that flat farmland. Too many ghosts. Still, it was a job, and these days jobs were scarce. He could hardly afford to discard good work. When his half sister waved him, hinted she had a job that might suit his crew, his first instinct was to refuse. He loved Caroline in his way--she'd always been good to him growin' up, even though she was ten years older, married most of his childhood. Still, he'd made excuses each of the last five years she'd invited him home. The Malcom she'd known was dead and buried. She'd been stunned by the new one, the shell that returned home to heal his broken arm though not his broken heart shortly after the battle of Serenity Valley. He'd spent two weeks there, feeling the hurt and disappointment every time she looked on him. Finally he'd waved Zoe, left in the middle of the night without a word. He hadn't been back since.

Mal pulled his shirt over his head, unclasped the top button of his trousers. Shadow wasn't their only prospect. He could always go crawlin' back to Badger, take his scavenging gig. But Mal wasn't much for crawling. Also he wasn't entirely sure he could refrain from punching the funny little Irishman when next he saw him. Hwoon dan had sold them out more times than Mal could count. He lay back on his bunk, grinning at the thought of putting his fist to Badger's face. Only one problem with that scenario. Well, two if he counted getting shot at by Badger's associates. No, the main thing was River. He couldn't exactly trust any information Badger happened to hand his way. The night River left the ship, Mal swore to any god who was listening that every job he took would be a part of bringing her home. But to get his albatross back he had to find her. And gorramit if the girl weren't makin' that hard as hell.

Still, he'd heard the talk from Shadow, bits and pieces gleaned from his sister, from various contacts of his and Zoe's. His home planet was an interesting world, far enough from the Core to be out from under the Alliance's wing, backwater enough to escape their interest. Yet the land was flat and fertile. They'd turned enough of a profit in recent years to make some technological advances. About a third of the people had access to a cortex. By now, most of 'em had seen the Miranda broadcast. And rumor had it, the folk there were plenty riled. Failing to take heed of the trouble brewing on Shadow would be a foolhardy move on the Alliance's part. Most everyone there lost relatives in the War and weren't likely to forget it anytime soon. Mal figured he'd run it by Zoe, when next he saw his first mate awake. Maybe he'd be real soft-headed and offer to get up with the little chick tonight. Muttering about ships and babies, he fell asleep.

---

Inara knocked briefly on Mal's door, pushed in the ladder and started to climb down. It felt strange to be back in Mal's room. Or perhaps it felt too familiar, and that was the strange part. Sleeping in Kaylee's room, she was painfully aware of her closeness to him each night. She wondered if he was aware of it too. But then they weren't speaking, hadn't exchanged more than the barest necessities since their dialogue in the cargo bay almost a month ago. The silence was the most disconcerting of all. In the old days, she and Mal were at least always arguing, trading jibes and insults. In a way, the squabbling was a comfort; at least it was a constant. Now when she saw Mal, she hadn't the slightest notion of what to expect. She certainly wasn't expecting to find Mal half-dressed, drooling into his pillow.

Inara wondered briefly whether she'd been set up.

"Mal?" She considered leaving, decided she wasn't going through all this again. She took a step forward, laid a tentative hand on his bare shoulder. "Mal."

Oh, this was a good dream and getting better by the minute. He was on Shadow in the rainy season--he'd always loved it best then, everything green and new. They lay under the canopy of a willow tree, protected from the downpour. He rested his back contentedly against the tree trunk, Inara straddling his lap. He took her face in his hands, cupped her neck and kissed her long and slow. No complications, no time constraints. Just him and her, there in that garden, everything living, alive. He felt her fingers stroke the bare skin of his back--what happened to his shirt? Ye su, he didn't care. He rolled over in the wet grass, pulling her under him.

"Mal, perhaps I should come back later..."

"Inara."

Before Inara could respond, she found herself trapped under Mal's body. His warm, very aroused body. He kissed her without opening his eyes, a soft exploration, almost sweet in its innocence. His lips grazed over her neck, his mouth sucking at the base of her throat. She felt his hands knead her breasts through the thin fabric of River's dress.

"Mal-" she tried. But it had been so long. And her body knew what to do, even if she was lost. She felt her knees parting, giving him the space to settle between. The first press of his pelvis felt like coming home. She raised her hand between them to push him off, instead found herself spanning her fingers to feel the muscles of his chest. She brushed her thumb over his nipple, felt him shudder.

"Oh, God, Inara," he groaned into her ear. "Inara?"

He opened his eyes, blinked at her a couple times as though he wasn't sure what was happening.

The sound of the 'com made them both jump.

"Wave for you, Cap'n." Kaylee's voice, bright and sunny. "I'm sendin' it on down." Before either of them could move, a woman's face filled the screen. A pretty brown-haired woman with Mal's eyes.

"Malcom, I--" The woman hesitated, eyes widening. "I'm sorry, Brother. I didn't know you were otherwise engaged."

Her lips quivered with barely-disguised amusement.

Mal ears were turning a new shade of red.

"Caroline, 'haps I could, uh--"

"Perhaps you should wave me later this evening. Nice meeting you, darling," she said to Inara before the screen went white.

Silence.

"I didn't know you had a sister," Inara said finally because it was the first thing she thought.

"Yeah, well she didn't know I was a lecherous hump. See all the stuff people are learnin' today?" He raised himself off of her, glanced down at the front of his pants and grabbed a pillow.

She should have stopped him--what was wrong with her? Was she some sort of sadist? Oh, but maybe this was good, maybe he'd changed. Perhaps they were both capable of change.

"I'm sorry." Mal raked a hand through his hair, took another step back. Ta ma de, he'd practically attacked her--what in the 'verse was wrong with him? "I didn't mean--I mean, I wouldn't intentionally have--"

Suddenly she had the acute desire to slap him again.

"I'm sure you couldn't help yourself," she said cooly. "Silly of me to sneak up on a man in the throes of...sleep." She emphasized the last word deliberately, her gaze icy.

She thought she saw hurt flash in his eyes but maybe it was just anger.

"Ain't kosher-like, entering a man's room without knockin'," he muttered, tugging a t-shirt over his head.

"I should have knocked! You of all people are saying that I should have--" She closed her mouth, realizing the futility of this particular argument. "Did you want something, Mal? Because, in truth I didn't come down here to be manhandled."

"I said I was sorry for that!" He took a breath, forced his tone to level. "Do have some things to talk on. First off--the matter of your shuttle. You know we picked her up 'fore leavin' Sihnon, but she ain't exactly the picture of health."

"I noticed," Inara said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Kaylee promised to fix her up good and proper, but everyone's been a mite busy with the little one."

"It's fine, Mal. Kaylee's loaned me her bunk for the time being. She's moved her things in with Simon."

"Then they're...the two of 'em, that's...?"

"Seems fairly official," Inara said, enjoying the way he was stuttering.

"Ren si de fo zu, I hope the doctor was payin' attention on sex ed day at the med acad. Last thing we need's another infant on board."

"I'm sure Kaylee knows what she's doing, Mal. She is a grown woman."

"I 'spose that's so." Mal shook his head. "Can't help but see her as that wild child I took on my ship couple years back."

Inara huffed out a breath.

"I can't imagine you asked me down here to discuss Kaylee's love life, Mal."

"No. Surely didn't. Listen, I'm sorry about your shuttle and you not havin' your clothes and stuff," he added, taking in her oddly-assembled outfit. "But I've been thinkin' some and seems best you stay on Serenity."

"I sort of gleaned as much when you kidnapped me."

"Okay, someone oughta teach you the difference 'twixt kidnapping and lifesaving, sweetheart."

"They wouldn't have killed me, Mal."

"Clearly you ain't had much experience with angry mobs."

"And its clear you've had quite a bit," she said sweetly.

"Inara." He sounded tired. "Can we quit warring for five minutes?"

She curved her lips in a smile.

"Five whole minutes?"

"I just wanna know you're okay here, not completely, you know, miserable or nothin'."

"Serenity was my home for a long time, Mal. Those people upstairs are my friends. Well, most of them."

"She's still your home, Inara. I may be the captain of this boat, the one with the papers on her. But she ain't been just mine for a long while. If you wanna live here, I ain't got call to stop you."

"But you don't want me here. You'd rather I was elsewhere."

He raised his head, met her eyes.

"I'd rather you stayed breathin'."

Inara lowered her gaze.

"I can't afford to pay you what I was, Mal. I've a little money in my account, but teaching dance isn't quite as lucrative as my former occupation."

The occupation she'd devoted her life to: the one he cost her.

"I don't want your money, Inara."

She softened.

"You need it, Mal."

"Let me worry on that. Sides, someone with your training's bound to come in useful on all sorts of jobs. Never know when I might need a lesson on holding my tea cup proper or using the right spoon at a fancy shindig."

"I'm not going to stay on as your ward, Mal."

"Inara." His expression turned serious. "You think any o' those people upstairs payin' room and board?"

"That's different. They all have jobs, roles on the ship."

He met her eyes, straight-faced.

"You could always give me those dancing lessons."

She rolled her eyes, started up the ladder.

"Have a nice nap, Captain."

"Come on, just the fox trot?"

She pulled his ladder closed by way of response.

---

Mal stepped into the infirmary, nodded at Simon who was weighing Raven on a small scale.

"Doctor."

"You know, Mal, I do have a name."

"Wait, don't tell me; I know this one."

Simon rolled his eyes.

"Can you take her for a second?"

Mal narrowed his eyes but accepted the squirming bundle. Not no one was eager to relinquish the baby when she was all sweet and quiet-like. Even Jayne seemed drawn to the little chick, offering to hold her earlier while Zoe ate dinner.

"What for?" he asked suspiciously while Simon rummaged through some drawers.

"I need someone to hold her still while I give her a few nocs."

"In that case, no chance." Mal laughed shortly. "I'm not gonna be the one help's the mean doc poke her with stuff." He glanced toward the door to make certain no one was spying, brushed his lips over Raven's downy black hair.

"Your Uncle Mal ain't got nothin' to do with this, Little Chick," he murmured before handing her back to Simon.

"Did you want something, Mal?"

"Uh, well." He winced as Simon cleaned a spot on the baby's thigh. "Nothin' urgent, just have a job in the works, wanna run it by the crew. Come on up to the kitchen when you're through here."

---

"So that's all I can tell you right now. If you're willing, I'll wave Caroline in a bit, tell her we accept and get some more details. Sound like something this crew can handle?"

Mal glanced up, waiting for response. From the look of things, he'd be waiting awhile. Gorram people weren't even listening. Simon had Raven in his lap, making stupid faces at her while Kaylee looked on, laughing. Inara was staring clear across the room at something fascinating and apparently invisible. Jayne was shoveling the remains of Raven's birthday cake into his mouth--Kaylee had insisted a newborn with no teeth needed a birthday cake--and Zoe was nodding off again.

Mal sighed.

"Zoe. Zoe!"

She raised her eyes.

"You say something, sir?"

"Oh, nothing important." He cleared his throat. "Go get some sleep, you're no good to anyone this way."

"Mal." Inara snapped back to attention in time to shoot him a disapproving glare.

"I'll keep an eye on the little chick tonight. I want you somewhat rested when we land on Shadow in a few days."

Zoe yawned.

"We're going to Shadow?"

"Hey, shiny," Kaylee piped up. "Ain't that where you're from, Cap'n?"

"Okay." Mal stood up, deciding this discussion was good and finished. "Anyone wants to spend some quality time in the airlock, by all means stay right here in my kitchen. The rest of you, get goin', sure you've things to do. We'll go over the plan tomorrow at breakfast."

Kaylee lifted Raven, kissed her soft cheek and settled her in Mal's arms.

"You have fun with your Uncle Mal tonight." She grinned, kissed Mal's cheek as well. "No matter what he says, he's nothin' but a big pushover when it comes to pretty girls."

They left him alone with Raven, who took their absence as an invitation to start bawlin'.

Mal sighed, looked down at the baby clutched to his chest.

"Oh, this is just perfect."

---

"This is perfect." River smiled, pushed open the door to Room 1B. The Inn was deserted, just like every other building in the square. Anyone who was able likely made for the outskirts when the Reaver ship landed. Some survived, would return tomorrow to collect their dead. The two of them wouldn't be bothered tonight.

Gideon followed her inside, taking in the whirling ceiling fan, floating particles of dust that danced in the lamplight. He sneezed, watched River bounce twice on the bed, lay back against the mattress.

"Not too hard, not too soft." She sounded pleased.

"You sound like Goldilocks," Gideon said, sitting beside her.

She frowned.

"Who?"

"Never mind."

He sounded tired, weary. River unwound the makeshift bandage, examined his neck wound.

"Needs washing."

"I know." He let out a breath and moved to the window, peering out into the darkness.

"Restless soul," she said. "Sleep now, Gideon the Warrior."

In the window pane, Gideon could see River's reflection. He watched her peel off her armor, her dress, slide between the covers in her undershirt and leggings.

He leaned forward, resting his warm face against the cool glass.

"I can't sleep," he said quietly.

---

"You're not the least bit sleepy, are you, Little Chick?" Mal lay back on his bed, careful to keep an arm on either side of the baby squirming on his chest. "Well, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, darlin'. Uncle Mal is havin' a tough time keepin' his eyes open."

Mal watched the baby blink at him, probably wondering where the hell was her mama.

"Not that you ain't good company, Raven. Sweet as sugar and cute as can be, though don't tell the others I said so--I'd never hear the end of it."

Mal decided this baby-sitting deal wasn't such a bad gig after all. She didn't argue, didn't second-guess his decisions or accuse him of being a stubborn hwoon dan. Little Chick just looked at him with those big blue eyes of hers, blinked and moved her tiny fists against his shirt.

Mal hoisted her up against his knees, watching her eyes take in the unfamiliar setting of his bunk.

"You know, darlin', I can see you becoming my favorite member o'the crew. Well, once you stop this 'cryin' all night' business. That's a mite wearying. Still, you don't seem near so crazy as your aunts is. Take your Aunt Inara. Now she's one to drive a man to drink. Feminine wiles, I tell ya. Don't you go developin' none of those, Little Chick."

Raven blinked at him, her lids starting to go heavy.

"This is a good talk," Mal told her. "If I tried to say any o'this to Kaylee or Inara--wo de ma--they'd go on about me bein' the one to blame. Kaylee'd say I pushed her away, same as I do with everyone else."

Mal lifted the baby, held her against his chest. He bent his head to brush lips over her hair, inhaling the fresh, powdery smell of her.

"You understand, don't you, Little Chick? If she didn't end up like Wa--like your daddy--then I'd be the one hurtin' her in the end. I ain't wrong 'bout that." He bounced her lightly in his arms. "I ain't wrong."

"Malcom."

Mal jumped, startling the baby who began to whimper again.

"Caroline." He faced the cortex. "I really meant to wave you back before."

"You seem to have your hands full."

Mal glanced down at the baby.

"Oh, you think...this bundle of joy ain't mine, Sister."

"She doesn't look much like you. Doesn't exactly resemble your lady friend either."

"This is Zoe's little chick. And that, my lady friend from before, ain't my lady friend. I mean to say, she's a friend mostly, and she's a lady, of course, but--"

Caroline was laughing.

"Don't even try to tell me the two of you aren't lovers, Malcom."

"I don't...You know, you can't interrogate me 'bout this stuff anymore. I'm a grown man, Carly."

"But you still blush like a teenager when caught with your trousers down."

"I--my trousers were exactly where they belong. Anyway, don't you think this conversation is a mite unsuitable for a impressionable young ears?"

Caroline smiled.

"Are you coming home, Brother?"

Mal met her eyes.

"I'm coming back to Shadow." It wasn't home, hadn't been since before the War and never could be again.

"I'll wave you when I know more. They'll be thrilled, Malcom. The work you've done--well, you've impressed them."

Mal snorted a laugh. He didn't know who them was, but they'd be the first.

"Should be there in three days, four at most."

"I'm happy, Brother. I look forward to meeting her."

"Yeah...wait, her?"

But he was speaking to a blank screen. Mal glanced down at Raven, asleep now, the weight of her tiny head on his shoulder.

"Darlin', I surely hope she was talking about you."

Because if Caroline meant who he thought she meant...ta ma de, this visit could be all sorts of uncomfortable. Mal lay the baby in her cradle, dragged it over to the side of his bed. He fell asleep rocking her.

---


	3. Chapter 3

---

Hair still wet from his second cold shower of the day, Mal strolled into the kitchen, took his seat at the head of the table.

"Evening folks. Just came from the bridge; should be touching down on Bellerophon come morning. Mayella's got the cash."

"Oughta go smooth enough, sir," Zoe commented. "We've dealt with her often enough."

"We gonna unload those ship part there, Cap'n?"

"That's the notion, Kaylee." Mal took a bite of potatoes, though he wasn't really hungry. Not hungry for potato-flavored protein anyway.

Over his water glass, Mal watched Inara stroll into the kitchen. Even wearing one of Zoe's undershirts, an old skirt of River's, she looked nothing short of a goddess. Wo de ma, he needed another shower.

"Hello, everyone--sorry I'm late."

"No problem." Jayne raised his mug in greeting. "We didn't wait or nothin'."

"Inara." Mal nodded at her. "Was just tellin' the crew we're makin' a quick stop on Bellerophon. Should be back on our way to Shadow 'fore you can blink."

"Oh." At the counter, she poured hot water for tea. "Do you mind if I ride into town with you and Jayne? I was hoping to pick up a few things."

Mal glanced up.

"Ain't really got time for sight-seeing."

"I can be quick."

Mal pushed his bao around the plate. He didn't think his lower body could handle bein' in her company that long.

"Why don't you just tell me what you're needin'? I can stop in at the general store if'n there's time."

"Mal-"

"Yeah? What do you need, Inara?"

She rolled her eyes, bent down close to his ear. Her breath sent shivers over his skin, triggered a fierce tightening in his trousers. She whispered something, while the others strained to hear.

Mal nearly choked on his water. He coughed, cleared his throat.

"'Haps its best you pick those up yourself. Mule leaves at eight sharp."

Kaylee was giggling into her napkin. She poked Simon.

"I can't wait till Raven's old enough to be needin' that sorta stuff."

"I can wait," Zoe murmured.

"What stuff?" Jayne asked, confused.

"Can't you just picture sweet little Raven askin' the cap'n to buy her--"

"Kaylee." Mal glared. "You think this conversation's a fitting one for the dinner table?"

"Mal, the female body is nothing to be embarrassed about," Simon said, perfectly straight-faced. "If you want, I could go over a few things with you...in case Raven ever has questions."

Kaylee and Inara were both laughing now.

Jayne rolled his eyes

"Aw, you're all a bunch of sickos."

Mal was shaking his head at the lot of 'em.

Zoe hid a smile, amused.

"Don't worry, sir. I wasn't plannin' on you bein' the one to teach my daughter 'bout the birds and the bees."

"No, no. I got no problem talkin' to the Little Chick. And I don't need no refresher courses, Doc." He leaned over to Zoe, voice low. "That's all a few years off, right?"

"Decade at least, sir."

Mal nodded, more than a little relieved. A decade was a long time. He could be dead in a decade.

"Shiny. Pass the salt."

---

Mal fought off his trousers, threw himself back on the bed in just his undershorts. Ship barely had heat and he was sweating to death. The dinner-table dialogue, however unpleasant, had done little to cool the fires raging through him. His body ached for her, throbbed something fierce. It had been over five months. Gorramit, that was a powerful long time to want somebody, to dream about having her every rutting night, to think on it every day. Knowing it was incendiary behavior, Mal pictured her in his bed, imagined tugging her soft, naked body beneath him, burying his lips in her neck and thrusting deep inside her. Oh, sweet Ye su, the release. He visualized himself driving into her again and again, stroking until she was pliant and shivering, bringing her to her own climax and falling after her. Then he'd hold her, slip into satiated sleep with his head between her breasts. Groaning, Mal slid a hand down his shorts.

The sound of knocking made him jump.

"Cap'n."

In no way did he wanna hear Jayne's voice right now. Guiltily, he removed his hand.

"What is it, Jayne?"

"Your sister's on the cortex. Wants to talk to you and Zoe on the bridge." Jayne hesitated. "Woman's not bad lookin', Mal. For one of your relatives, I mean."

Gritting his teeth, Mal pulled on his trousers and started up the ladder.

---

"I'm kinda likin' this." Kaylee dabbed the ointment on Simon's black eye, stood back to admire her work. "It's shiny, me gettin' to play doctor while you gotta sit on the table and do whatever I say."

"You are quite skilled with your hands." He tried to grab her around the waist but she danced out of reach.

"Uh uh, not yet." She stepped up to the exam table, angling between his thighs. "We do wanna be thorough."

"Seems prudent." Simon touched her lips gently, tried to deepen the kiss.

"Tsk, Simon!" She swatted at his thigh. "I told ya, I ain't done examining you."

"By all means, examine away." He held up his hands.

She moved closer so he could feel her breasts against his chest. She kissed his neck, feather-light lip brushes, just the way he liked.

"That shiner's gotta smart," she muttered. "Cap'n really got you good."

"I'm fine, Kaylee." His voice was smooth, reassuring.

"Second time this week," she said as her fingernails raked over his back.

"I'm lucky you're such a good nurse. Or doctor," he added quickly.

She smiled, unoffended, and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"No blows to the chest," she murmured. She pressed her hand flat against the front of his pants. "Seems to be some swelling in the nether-regions."

He burst out laughing.

"Kaylee!"

"I love that I can still make you blush!"

"Well, I love...I love you." He took in her stricken expression, eyes wide, mouth forming a little o. "You're not laughing anymore."

"Ain't so funny."

"I'm sorry. Are we not...are we not at that point yet? I can take it back."

"Do it and I'll blacken your other eye." She smiled, put her hands on either side of his face. "No one's ever said that to me before. Say it again."

"I love you."

She shook her head, eyes glistening.

"Boy are you gettin' lucky tonight."

---

"The underground movement is gathering strength on Shadow. I'm sure Malcom's explained that we lost nearly an entire generation in that God forsaken war."

Zoe nodded, glancing at the captain beside her.

"The Independents had mellowed some in recent years, but your broadcast gave them new hope." Caroline smiled. "I always knew you'd do great things, Brother."

"Great." Mal looked away. "Right."

"You don't know what your work means to people, Malcom."

"Caroline, my work is the business of crime. Thievin', smugglin', scavenging. You name it, we've likely done it. I'm willing to come down there, see if I can be of service. But I surely ain't nobody's hero--best not be mistaking me for one 'cuz you'll wind up disappointed."

Caroline smiled.

"He's always been obstinate," she said for Zoe's benefit. "Even as a boy. Whatever you'd say, Malcom'd go out of his way to do the opposite."

Zoe raised an eyebrow.

"Hard to believe."

"Shiny as it is reminiscing with you, Caroline, best we get down to business."

Caroline nodded.

"As you know, Shadow's never been a wealthy world. But, the last few years, our harvests have been plentiful. The Alliance now sees our little planet as...useful. At least potentially. This past summer, they commandeered a large section of land east of town, built a base there."

"What's the Alliance want with a plot of land on Shadow?"

Caroline smiled.

"That's where you come in, Mal."

"So you want us to steal on base in the middle of the night? A little B and E action to sniff out what they're up to out there?"

"It's not that simple, Brother. You'd never make it past the guards."

"Sister, stealth's my middle name."

Zoe snorted a laugh, coughed to disguise it.

"Anyway," Mal said deliberately. "If we ain't crashing the Alliance party, what's the intention?"

"Actually, Malcom, that's exactly what you're doing." Caroline smiled. "The local government's sponsoring an event of sorts this coming weekend. A classy affair, designed to drum up regional support, smoke out the troublemakers and recruit potential allies. It's invitation only, but we've managed to secure you a pair of tickets under assumed names."

"What's the use of me rubbin' elbows with the feds?"

"The event's to be held at Councilman Blake's estate. I'm sure a great criminal mind like yours can find a way to access his private files."

"Sounds like something we can handle. Zoe?"

"Sure. But I ain't goin', sir."

"Shah muh?"

"Remember the part where I have a newborn, Captain? Believe you've seen her--little person, needs to eat every four hours..."

"Oh, jing tsai."

Caroline raised a brow.

"Is this going to be a problem?"

"Depends. Can I take Jayne?"

"A lady would lend a certain air of respectability, Malcom."

"Captain. You know who you can take."

"Uh, Caroline, why don't I wave you back in a bit?"

Mal closed the connection.

"I really don't know what you're suggestin', Zoe. And you can just stop suggestin' it cuz it ain't happening."

"Sir, Inara would be perfect for this job."

Mal sighed.

"Damn it, Zoe."

She cocked her head, rose.

"You know, think I hear the baby crying."

"What? I don't hear nothin'."

"We'll talk later, sir."

She left him alone in the cockpit, knowing he'd resign himself to his fate.

---

Wishing fervently that he were elsewhere, Mal knocked on Kaylee's old door--Inara's now--and pushed in the ladder.

It felt strange climbing down here. When the room was Kaylee's, Mal had little need to visit. Not that Kaylee disliked havin' guests. In fact, just the opposite. Girl hardly spent any time at all in her bunk, preferring the engine room, the kitchen, really anyplace the others was likely to be. Inara tended to keep to herself more, not antisocial exactly, just private-like.

"Mal."

She was dusting the dresser top with a wet rag. He recalled her shuttle, warm and inviting, but orderly, trim, everything in its proper place.

"You're busy here...I can come back?" he offered, hoping for an out.

"No, it's all right. Actually, I wanted to speak with you about something."

"Well, ladies first." Knowing he was just delaying the inevitable, Mal leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

She smiled, gestured to the bed.

"Why don't you sit?"

Mal narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"I think I'll stay standin'." In Mal's experience, no one asked you to sit lest they was about to say something you didn't wanna hear.

"Suit yourself." She faced the shelf, her back to him. "Mal...I can tell you're in pain, that you're hurting."

Mal blinked, automatically glanced down at the front of his trousers.

"You...you can tell that?"

"Everyone can, Mal." Her tone was soft, gentle. "It's fairly obvious."

He watched her extend an arm, stand on tip toe to shine the looking glass. He had to clear his throat before he could speak.

"I'm...obvious?"

"You don't have to suffer like this," she said turning back. "I wish you'd let me help."

"You wanna ...ease my suffering?" Mal used one of Kaylee's throw pillows to fan his face. "Is it hot in here?"

"Not particularly. Mal, I understand how you're feeling. And I know the doctor feels it too."

"What's the doctor gotta do with...Ohhh. You're talkin' 'bout the lil' albatross bein' lost."

"Of course." Inara frowned. "What did you think I was talking about?"

"I--that's what I thought!" He sat on the bed, considerably calmer.

Inara raised a delicate eye brow.

"Mal, I understand that you feel...responsible. We all miss River, all worry where she is, if she's safe, if she's happy. But you and Simon won't resolve anything by beating each other to a pulp."

"Now wait just a minute," Mal said, on his feet again. "You think I like pummeling the doc, that I get some sorta sick pleasure out of it? Well, okay, it ain't all bad. Still, I'm just doin' it as a favor to Kaylee. Anyway, Doc's been on this boat goin' on two years now. 'Bout time he learned to be a proper criminal."

"And I'm sure it's fun for you to have a protégée. But Kaylee's worried."

Mal shrugged dismissively.

"Couple fat lips ain't gonna kill him. Boy's stronger than he looks." He rubbed his jaw, where he'd taken a hit that morning.

"I'm not referring to his physical well-being, Mal. Though I can't imagine its wise for a doctor to sustain multiple blows to the head." She rested an arm on the bureau, met Mal's eyes. "He's different now, ever since River...He's still Simon, still sweet in his way, and yet...darker. He's becoming more and more like..."

Her voice trailed off at the end.

"More like me, you mean to say."

"I know you're trying to help. I just wonder whether there isn't another way."

"You know, Inara, 'haps you should stay out of things that ain't your...area of expertise. Leave the violence and crime to the professionals."

"That's a good idea. Why don't you go upstairs and clean your guns or something?"

"Yeah? Maybe I will!" Mal hesitated, hands on the ladder. "'Cept I sorta need your help with somethin'."

She sighed.

"Let me guess, violence and crime?"

"Not neither, least not technically. Actually, this job's right up your alley."

"Is that so?"

"Yep. Get to wear a shiny dress, drink fine wines, maybe eat a couple meals with real food."

"Sounds too good to be true."

"Well, there is a kinda catch."

She smiled sweetly.

"Isn't there always."

"Ain't all that bad. Just gotta condescend to bein' on my arm for a couple days, play it up for the local boys. But, hey, I'll even wash it this time." He rolled up his sleeve for her to see.

"Mal..." The teasing tone faded. "Are you sure that's a wise idea?"

"We're both adults, ain't we? No reason we can't spend a civilized weekend at the Councilman's fine manor."

"A civilized weekend in which I'm to be your wife."

Mal was starting to feel hot again.

"That's the notion," he admitted.

"You realize we'll be put up in the same lodging."

"I got no problem with you sleepin' on the sofa."

She rolled her eyes.

"Ever the gentleman."

"But if it makes you the least bit uncomfortable...well we wouldn't want that." He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.

"Oh, I'm not uncomfortable," she said quickly. "I was just thinking of you."

"Were you now? You needn't be worryin' for my sake, darlin'."

"Then it's settled." She smiled serenely. "I'll need a dress, of course. Several. I seem to have misplaced all of mine."

"You shouldn't be so careless with your things." He grinned, ducked when she swung at him with a pillow. "Sure we can find you somethin' acceptable on Shadow."

He started up the ladder, looked down to meet her gaze.

"I owe you one."

"Don't worry overmuch." She smiled. "You're buying me shoes too."

---

River was writing a story in her head. Already she was on the third page, nearing the big climax. It was a game she invented on Serenity, amused herself with when the others were too busy to play. She could hold up to five pages in her head at once, transcribe it all after, word for word. But she seldom bothered to put her stories down on paper. By the time she finished them, they'd served their purpose. River bored easily. Even now she was distracted, taking in the vibrations of the ship, the sound of Gideon tinkering in the engine room.

She lay back on the floor, her short hair falling through the metal grating. They were all so far away now. Mostly, she couldn't feel them anymore, only garnering the real highs and lows. Great pleasure, terrible pain. She felt both from her brother, his love for Kaylee, a surprising, sustaining lust unlike any he'd known. His body was alive with it, hard and pulsing. But a part of him was dying, being reborn as something new. This--violence and crime--was his path now, but it shouldn't be, hadn't been. She'd waylaid Simon, snatched him off his path and set for him a new one. Sometimes she longed to put him back.

River could hear Mal too. Always his voice was the loudest, rising above the cacophony of the others, pouring into her ears, inhabiting her. She knew he'd never be silent. Even when Inara had cooled his raging fires, a part of him still cried out. Poor Captain. He had such a journey ahead. Sighing, River stretched her arms out to her sides, enjoying the feel of the cold metal against her back. So close to the climax of the tale--it would be a pity to abandon the project now. She squeezed her eyes shut, let herself sink back into the dream world.

The vision came fast, hard and merciless like a foot stomping down on her forehead. Her eyes flew open and she murmured a single word.

"Reavers."

In the engine room, Gideon heard her cry out, dropped his wrench and ran into the hall. He caught up to her on the bridge, held her still by the shoulders.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"We have to turn the ship around." Brushing past him, she collapsed in the pilot's seat, fingers furiously working the navigation controls. "They're in trouble!"

"River." He knelt beside her, pushed damp strands of hair from her eyes. "Who's in trouble?"

She met his eyes, her own wet and frightened.

"They'll die if we don't go." She sighed, leaned forward so her head was resting on his shoulder. "They don't even know."

Gideon stroked her hair, eyes on the nav screen.

Bellerophon. Would they find a massacre there?

"They never know, and I always do. Sometimes it makes me so tired."

"I know." Gideon lifted her in his arms, carried her back to her room.

"They go about their days, suffering, hurting. Time misspent, frittered away as though there's an endless supply. Don't they see? Don't they understand?"

"Shh." He tucked her under the covers, pushed her shoulders down. "Try to sleep for an hour."

"Will you sleep, Gideon the Warrior?"

He paused in the doorway, turned back to the slim, shivering girl on the bed.

"That's what most people do in the middle of the night." Normal people. The ignorant and still sane.

River slid off her bunk, feet hitting the cold floor. She tread slowly, gracefully across the room, stopped when she was beside him.

"You're hurting." She reached up a hand, stroked her fingers down his cheek. "There's a fire inside you; I can feel it burn."

"That's where you're wrong, genius." He smiled, tapped her nose. "There's nothing inside me any more."

---

"Malcom Reynolds." Mayella smiled, tossed her gold braid over one shoulder and leaned forward to kiss Mal square on the lips. "When you gonna settle down and marry me?"

Mal grinned, dried his lips discreet-like with the back of his hand.

"Well, Mayella, tempting as that offer is, I'm pledged to that little cherry blossom." He pointed to Inara, who was climbing down from the mule.

"I wouldn't want to stand in the way of true love." Inara smiled at Mayella. "You can have him."

"Now, darlin'." Mal delivered a light slap to her backside, tossed an arm around her shoulders. "That any way to talk about your betrothen? Or is it betrothed?"

"It's neither." She dug her elbow into his ribs, disentangled herself when he winced. "Mayella, could you be a dear and point a girl in the direction of the nearest boutique?"

"Boutique? You mean like formal duds?"

Inara nodded.

"Well, Thompson's always carries a few pretties. That white shop next to the sheriff's office yonder."

"That sounds perfect." Inara started across the square.

"Howdy, Mayella." Jayne hopped down from the mule, strolled over to join her and Mal. "Where's my kiss?"

"Hey, Jayne?" Mal watched Inara step into the dress shop. "Go over there and make sure she doesn't buy out the store, will ya?"

Muttering, Jayne stromped across the green after her.

Mayella was shaking her head, gray eyes shrewd.

"I never thought I'd see the day."

"Hmm?"

"The great Mal Reynolds: whipped."

"What? Oh, Ella, you know me better than that." Mal took her arm, led her back to the mule where he'd stored the ship parts. "Need a blushin' bride for a job we're pulling back on Shadow. Inara's a good girl, willin' to help."

"Well, how do you like that? I could have sworn the pair of you were lovers." Mayella hoisted one of the bags, tucked a satchel of coins in Mal's pocket. "I must be slipping."

"Yeah." Mal helped her carry the parts back to her rider. "Must be."

"You know." She ran a hand down his shirt, used his belt buckle to tug him close. "You bein' unattached, and me bein' unattached...well that just spits opportunity. How long you parked on my little world?"

"Not long enough for me to show you the good time you deserve, Mayella."

"That's why I adore you, Mal." She settled herself in the driver's seat. "A gentleman among thieves."

"Not exactly the popular theory," Mal muttered, making sure the parts were secure in back. "You take care of yourself, hear?"

She rode off, leaving Mal with the pleasant and somewhat unfamiliar sensation of a job well done. Satisfied, Mal strolled back to the mule, leaned back to wait for Inara in the balmy summer air. Was a good day. No shoot outs, no Alliance trouble. Just a smooth, easy exchange. Hell, a fellow could get used to this.

He felt the shadow cross his face before he saw the man.

---

River hovered over the yoke, wanting to take it in her hands, glide them down for a landing. She rocked in the chair, her hair whipping against her cheeks.

Gideon slipped on to the bridge, stood behind her.

"Are we too late?"

River turned, shook her head no.

"It hasn't happened yet." Her eyes drifted over the nav screen. "Too far to go. We won't make it in time."

Gideon sighed. By law, he was forbidden from allowing River any contact with Captain Reynolds or the others aboard Firefly ship Serenity. Preventing a Reaver massacre was one thing, but going out of their way to help those people, to save them...

Perhaps it wouldn't matter. River seemed to believe they'd arrive too late to help. Gideon turned to go, hesitated in the doorway as a face floated before his eyes. Zoe. Funny that he'd think of her now, all these months later. Especially since they'd most likely never meet again. Anyway, it sounded as though she--all of Serenity's crew--was operating on borrowed time. Still, she was an alluring woman. She'd been expecting a baby when last he saw her. It would have been born by now. He wondered whether it was a boy or a girl.

"River."

She looked up, eyes wide with fear.

He knelt beside her on the floor of the cockpit, drew a thumb gently across her wrinkled brow. She was the Alliance's greatest success, a prodigy in every sense of the word. Probably she possessed hidden talents, resources they'd yet to tap. What wonders could be found in the deepest crevices of her marvelous brain? A part of him hoped never to know. But another part...

"Why don't you try to warn them?"

For a moment she looked bewildered. Then awareness dawned.

She closed her eyes and lay her head back in the chair.

---

The star gleamed gold in the early morning sun.

"Officer." Mal nodded at the young man. "Nice day, huh?"

"Yep." The sheriff appraised Mal suspiciously, turned his gaze to the mule.

"Somethin' wrong, Officer?" He was starting to get that sinking feeling in his gut. Ai ya.

"You can't park her there."

Mal raised an eyebrow.

"What, you mean the mule?"

"You'll have to move her. There's a lot yonder."

"Yes, sir. I'll just go ahead and do that." Relieved, he started to climb aboard.

"Just a minute." The lawman put a hand on Mal's shoulder. "You here on business, son?"

Mal's patience was rapidly dissipating. Kid probably had that gold star on his vest less than a year. He turned slowly.

"Business? No, no, just takin' my brand-new nubile young bride on a shopping spree." He lowered his voice to conspiratorial levels. "You know how womenfolk get when you say they can have a new frock. Makes 'em all sorts of grateful, if you catch my drift."

"Bellerophon's an unusual honeymoon spot."

Mal smiled.

"Just passing through, Officer." He squinted in the sunlight, spotted Inara lingering near the door of the dress shop. "There she is now. Kitten? Why don't you come say hello to the nice lawman?"

Inara took a step out onto the porch, her expression halfway between vexation and concern. Mal winced when he noted her dress, a long, intricate creation the color of lemons and sure to cost a small fortune.

"Officer, let me introduce my-"

And then he reeled, had to grasp the side of the mule to stay upright. Reavers. Dear God, they were all around him, killing, feeding. Everywhere he turned he saw rape, pain, death. Women, children. Wo de ma, the blood. Then, just as suddenly as they'd appeared, they were gone. Mal blinked against the bright morning glare. Now his eyes met a quaintly-rustic country scene, the townspeople going about their business, shopping for Sunday dinner, conducting their affairs with no notion of the horrors he'd just witnessed.

"Mal?" Inara jogged over, holding the skirts of the lemon dress in one hand.

"Miss?" The shopgirl appeared in the doorway, her lips pursed in annoyance. "The dress, Miss?"

The sheriff, remembering his role, cleared his throat.

"You plannin' on payin' for that, honey?"

"I--is everything okay, Mal?"

"I'm fine, Inara."

"You do like a mite pale," the sheriff agreed.

"Perhaps you're just overexcited, what with our impending nuptials." She smiled charmingly at the officer, but Mal could tell she was unconvinced.

The sheriff was watching them through narrowed his eyes.

"I thought you said you was already hitched..."

"Well, I--" Mal blinked, feeling this darkness closing in again. He had to fight off the flashes, battle for control of his own brain.

Inara rushed to cover.

"Did you say that? I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself...dear."

"Well, that's true enough" Mal fought to get control, keep himself here in the present. "See, Nara here don't consider the vows official until we...until we do the thing." Tian de ma, he was in no shape to be making up stories for backwoods lawmen. The sheriff was lookin' at him kinda funny now.

"Whoa, now! Not that thing. Course, we've already done that thing."

He managed a smile for Inara who shot him her patented get-to-the-point look.

"No, I meant the other...thing. Honey pie, don't you think you oughta go get back in your own clothes? We wouldn't want the nice sheriff thinkin' we're thieves."

"No." Inara forced a smile. "We wouldn't want that. I-I'll be right back, Mal."

"I should be on my way as well. Just make sure to move that mule now." The sheriff tipped his hat at Inara, who was backing toward the dress shop, eyes on Mal. "Ma'am."

Mal managed to hold on until the sheriff was out of sight. Then he grabbed the side of the mule, felt himself sinking. He could see them again, coming at him from all sides, tearing into him. Then he heard the voice, a sweet, familiar voice, pressing, coaxing. Go, she said. Leave this place now, Captain.

"River?" he managed. Mal fought his way back, eyes darting around the square. The sky above was blue and empty. Beneath his feet, even the grass was still. How long? he wondered.

He decided he wasn't gonna hang around to find out.

"Jayne!" Mal started the mule, heard the engine roar to life. "Let's go!"

---

Once they broke atmo, Mal moved purposely to the bridge, brushing past the doctor with his little pen light, Inara who followed close on their heels. His eyes raked over the screens. His sky was empty. Not a single ship, Reaver or otherwise, on the maps.

"Mal, will you just let Simon examine you?" Inara appeared in the doorway, carrying Raven in her arms.

"Not just now, thanks." He sat in the pilot's chair, flipping on the cortex. "Keep this tuned to Bellerophon next few hours. I wanna hear any new 'ports comin' outta that rock."

"Mal, why don't you just come to the infirmary? Let me run a few tests..."

Mal lay his head back against the chair, closed his eyes.

"Ain't me you should be worried 'bout, Doc."

"Inara said you nearly fainted. Twice." Simon leaned against the console. "What happened out there?"

Mal met the doctor's eyes.

" 'Haps you should ask your sister."

"Mal!" Inara turned the baby in her arms, cuddled Raven against her chest to stop her fretting.

"Ask my sister." Simon shook his head, lost. "What does that mean, Captain? River's no where near here."

"Yeah? Well, didn't stop the lil' albatross from trampin' about in my brain."

"River...spoke to you?"

"More like played a little vid inside my head. The graphic sort."

"Was there anything useful? Any clues as to her whereabouts?"

"No, Doctor. I'm startin' to believe she don't much wanna be found. She wasn't lookin' for a rescue, that's for certain."

"Then what was she looking to do?" Simon was growing impatient.

"Best I can figure, she was tryin' to save us from the Reaver attack on Bellerophon."

"What Reaver attack?" Inara asked slowly.

"That's my main problem." Mal tapped the cortex. "This stays on for the next couple days."

"Captain...isn't it good if there's no attack? I mean, Reavers are somewhat unpredictable, aren't they? Perhaps they..changed their minds, decided to hit another planet. I'm sure River didn't mean to upset you unnecessarily. My sister's not malicious. She wouldn't have 'tramped' around your brain for no reason."

"Ain't my brain I'm worried 'bout, Doctor."

"What do you mean?"

Mal met Simon's eyes.

"You ever known your sister to be wrong?"

---

Gideon stood not five feet from the spot where Mal had been just hours before. He watched the sun set on Bellerophon, the town common tranquil in the twilight. To his right, a shopkeeper closed up for the night. Across the square two lovers walked arm in arm.

"Hey." He squeezed River's shoulder reassuringly. "Even a psychic's entitled to an off day, right?"

"I don't understand," she said softly. "I saw it happen."

"But this is good news. Isn't it?"

River observed the quiet, at a loss.

"It is," she agreed finally.

"Yup." Gideon started walking back to their shuttle. "Your friends are safe. Today's a good day."

"No." River's voice was barely a whisper on the dark common. "They'll never be safe."

---


	4. Chapter 4

---

If there was one thing Mal Reynolds missed out here in the Black, it was waking up with the sunshine. Tomorrow, the bright rays would sneak through his sister's lace curtains, spreading over the bedcloths till they reached his face, warming and wheedling, coaxing him into opening his eyes. Tomorrow, he'd see daylight when he blinked. Today he dressed in the dark, ran a comb through his hair and strolled down to his kitchen for coffee.

He came up short at the doorway, leaned against the frame watching her.

Inara wore one of Kaylee's old sweatshirts, a soft worn gray with the sleeves cut out, and blue silk pajama pants that musta belonged to the doc. Her hair was long and loose, dark, riotous curls pouring down her back. She was feeding Raven from a bottle.

Mal posed in the doorjamb, careful not to make a sound.

She was talking in poetry, softly spoken words designed to soothe the fretting baby.

"Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before"

Inara adjusted the bottle so the little chick could get a better grip. Mal watched the baby's tiny fingers curl around Inara's hand as her little lips sucked keenly at the milk.

"Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore"

Mal could see the child's eyes, wide and blue--would they stay that shade or turn dark like Zoe's?--so solemn and earnest, staring gratefully at the source of the nourishment.

"Lovely." Inara smoothed the jet hair, soft as down. "You make him smile, you know. You give smiles to everyone on this ship."

"Ahem." Mal stepped into the kitchen. Inara jumped, startling the baby who whimpered once, found a more secure mouth-hold on the bottle and settled. "Mornin'."

"Good morning," Inara said after a moment. "I thought I'd let Zoe sleep in for once."

"Uh huh." He poured coffee for them both, carried the steaming mugs to the table. "You and Kaylee ain't foolin' nobody with this 'let Zoe sleep' business. Pair of you's gone baby-crazy."

"For this baby, at least," Inara admitted. "She's a sweetheart."

"Yeah, she's okay." Mal leaned over to stroke a finger down the baby's socks-clad foot. "Jayne and I got a pool goin'. If her first word's 'Mal' I win twenty platinum."

"Captain, are you actually placing bets on my sweet niece?"

"Why, you want in?"

Inara rolled her eyes.

"I think I'll pass."

Mal raked a weary hand through his hair, thinkin' on all the stuff he had to get done 'fore they landed on Shadow that evening. Caroline pasted blueprints of the Councilman's estate over the cortex. He should look over them with Kaylee, see if the girl had any brilliant notions for sneakin' around the manor. Gorramit, he was eager for this job to be over and done. Shadow was a ghostland to him, death under every fern and bush, and mostly his own. Last night he had a dream about his mother's graveyard. Beside her stone was another one, a new black rock etched with ivy. He'd read his own name there in the granite.

"Hey." He watched Inara curl the baby against her chest, patting her gently between the shoulder blades. "You ever think on havin' one of those?"

Inara raised a brow, surprised.

"You mean to say-"

"A tiny squirmin' thing of your own, I mean to say."

"I--I've thought about it."

"And?"

"And the opportunity never really arose. It does take two, Mal." And she'd mostly just been the one.

"I do know how it works, Inara."

"Why?"

"Why do I know so much 'bout makin' babies?"

"Why do you ask, Mal?" she said dryly. "Do...do you ever...?"

He shrugged, lifted Raven from Inara's arms.

"Don't know. Month ago I'd have thought I wasn't fit to be nobody's daddy. But seein' Zoe's little chick..." His voice trailed off. "She is a little darlin'."

The little darling took the opportunity to spit up milk on his shirt.

"Nope." Mal handed the baby back to Inara and reached for a towel. "Ain't given it a thought."

---

They left Serenity in a secure spot and walked the mile and a half to Caroline's.

Kaylee stopped short at the edge of the property. Mal crashed into her, had to grab her shoulders to keep them both from toppling.

"Ai ya!" Kaylee shaded her eyes against the sun, gaping up at the rambling three-story farmhouse, shiny white with blue trim. "Wo de ma, Cap'n."

"It's lovely, Mal," Inara admitted, taking in the manicured lawn, the porch planters, overflowing with green, the sturdy gray-brick chimney.

"Yes, Caroline has quite the talent for homemaking. Are you sure you're related?"

"Always thought Serenity had a very feng shui feel to her, Doc," Mal muttered, pushing Simon out of his way. He knocked on the door, nudged it open. "Carly? The prodigal brother has returned to the heartland."

"Don't seem to be home, sir," Zoe commented, following him inside.

"No, guess she had business in town. Go on and make yourselves cozy," Mal invited. "Try not to touch nothin' looks expensive-like."

"Oh, hell." Jayne stood in the parlor doorway. "Is that a genu-ine reclining chair? Leather?" He looked ready to cry.

Mal shrugged.

"Knock yourself out."

Jayne plucked Raven out of Zoe's carrying harness, ignoring the mother's raised eyebrows. He settled himself and the little babe in the recliner, shutting his eyes with a satisfied groan.

"Cap'n." Kaylee followed him into the kitchen, punched him lightly on the arm. "I never knew you come from money."

Mal laughed shortly and took a seat at his sister's table, amused when the others followed suit.

"Don't. Carly picked up this property after the War, used her husband's army pension to fix it up some."

"I didn't think the Browncoats gave out pensions to their soldiers," Inara said curiously. "I assumed the war drained Independent resources rather soundly."

"Oh, it surely did. Caroline's husband fought with the Alliance."

For several moment no one spoke.

Then the kitchen door swung open with a warm, antiquated creak. A smallish brunette with Mal's eyes beamed at them over her shopping bags.

"Okay," she said. "Who's the big fella sleeping in my living room? And when do I get to hold that swai little child?"

---

Caroline fed them first, garden-grown vegetables, real honest-to-goodness fried chicken and wine, lots and lots of wine.

"I have my own vineyard, albeit a small one. Still, the grapes are very fine. The Lord blessed this land, made the earth rich and fertile. Ain't hardly any plant we can't grow."

"This is excellent," Inara agreed, eyeing Caroline's gold cross over the wide rim of her wine glass. She saw that Mal noticed it too.

"Think she's got your engine brew beat, Lil' Kaylee." Jayne swigged a deep red with one hand, held Raven with the other.

Mal watched Zoe wince as the big man juggled her daughter, though the baby didn't stir in her sleep. How do you like that? Raven was turning her badass mama from warrior to worrier. He downed his own glass of white, reached over and took the Little Chick, settling her against his chest. He told himself it was just to be sure Jayne didn't drop her. Hadn't nothin' to do with him wantin' to hold her his own self.

"Enough talk about our fine land," Caroline was saying. "You can see it all for yourselves in the morning. I want to hear about my brother the ship's captain."

The others exchanged glances, but no one spoke.

"Oh, come now. Ain't anybody feeling truthsome?" She giggled, looking a good deal younger than her forty some-odd years. "Who wants to share?"

Mal shrugged, absently rubbing Raven's tiny back.

"They ain't much for talkin'. Real shy crew I got myself."

Jayne snorted, and Caroline laughed.

"Is that so?" She took a sip of her wine. "What if I were to offer a slice of homemade coconut cream pie to anyone bold enough to speak?"

Mal sighed, knowing he was humped.

"Coconut cream pie," Kaylee repeated. "You mean to say, ma'am--real whipped cream?"

"Unless you'd prefer strawberry shortcake?"

"Kaylee." Mal knew he was sunk but tried to save himself anyhow. "You ain't so big as to prevent me lockin' you in the cargo hold for a day or two."

"Hush, Malcom." Caroline reached over and tousled his hair. "So, Kaylee? What's my brother really like? I suspect you know him better than I now."

Mal met his sister's eyes for a moment before looking away.

Kaylee was beaming, prolly thinkin' on naught but those berries now.

"Well, let me think a minute. Oooh, once, when we was set down on Triumph, the Captain was so drunk he got hitched and didn't even realize. Was so funny, Caroline."

"Gorramit, Kaylee." Jayne looked put out. "That was gonna be mine."

"It wasn't all that funny," Mal muttered, glaring at her.

"Oh? Ohhh." Surprised, Caroline paused in collecting the dinner plates. "I didn't realize you were..." She shook her head, set a smile on her lips. "Then is that how the two of you got together?"

The wine must've gone to Mal's head because it took him more 'n a second to work out what his sister was thinkin'.

"Oh, she and I, we ain't--"

Inara spoke at the same time.

"Oh no, we're not--"

"Oh, gosh!" Kaylee had the grace to look guilty. "I didn't mean he married Nara. I think the Cap'n woulda remembered that!" She hesitated, realizing both Mal and Inara were glaring at her now. "He married Saffron," she said carefully, more quite-like.

"And Saffron is...?"

"Prettiest little psychopath in the 'verse," Jayne explained, ignoring the rising tension in the room. "Got all naked and played the Cap'n but good."

"Not to worry, Sis." Mal dug into Kaylee's slice of pie. "Don't think the marriage is legal on account of the bigamy laws. How many husbands you reckon our Saffron's racked up by now?"

"So...Malcom and Inara got together after?" Caroline was addressing Kaylee now, quickly realizing she'd be the most accommodating of the crew.

"I--well." Kaylee looked at Inara for assistance.

"Mal and I are just friends," Inara explained. "Well, some of the time we're friends."

"Yeah, when they ain't fightin' or screwin'," Jayne added helpfully.

For a moment everyone was silent. Even the forks stopped clinking against the dessert plates.

"Jayne-" Mal began, employing his deadly voice.

"Hey," Simon said, trying to ease the tension. "Who wants to hear a funny story about sick people?"

The door burst open before anyone could reply.

"Malcom Reynolds!" Two sturdy, strapping young men stepped into Caroline's kitchen. "You sick son of a bitch, I can't believe you're back."

Inara glanced nervously at Mal, forgetting she'd been ready to slide under the table in embarrassment just moments before.

"What the guay you sittin' round here for? Mal Reynolds back on Shadow? That's cause for a gorram party!"

"Jim and Jem, I can't believe you boys are still hangin' around this place." Mal passed the baby to Zoe, stood to shake their hands. "Much as I do enjoy your parties--my stomach's nearly recovered from the last one--my crew and I are here for some clandestine dealings. Got a preference not to make our arrival front page news, if you catch my drift."

"Not a problem, Mal." Either Jim or Jem--Inara wasn't sure which--slapped him boisterously on the back. "We'll just bring the party to you. Carly don't mind, do you sweetheart?"

"I--well, no." She shrugged. "Long as the partygoers stay out back. And out of my house."

"I ain't one to discourage rowdy drinkin', but let's keep this small, Jem. Wouldn't want to draw a crowd."

"Sure, Mal, sure. Just a few close friends and a few handles of our finest rum." Jim hesitated in the doorway, grinned. "Congrats on the little one, Reynolds. I got me three at home."

---

There was drinking. The drinkin' led to dancin'. Well, Mal appraised, as he, Jem and Jim did another shot of rum. Wasn't so much dancin' as horny drunk folk rubbing up against one another. He grinned, settled himself a little unsteady-like on the top of his sister's picnic table. Kaylee had wheedled Inara into teachin' her some fancy dance. But either Inara was too tipsy to instruct properly or Kaylee was too gone to listen. Likely it was a mixture of the two. Mal watched the doctor weave through a sea of bodies, stumbling towards Kaylee.

"Not a bright move, Top Three Percent," Mal muttered, watching the girls tug Simon between them. He managed to spin them both equally, if somewhat awkwardly. Always a happy drunk, Kaylee kissed the both of them, before cutting through the throng to where Mal sat on the table.

"Hey, Cap'n." She dropped down on the seat between his legs, resting her head on his knee. "You havin' a good time?"

"Fun fit to burstin'," Mal assured, patting the top of her head.

She smiled, pleased, and snagged the mostly-drained bottle of liquor from beside him.

"Do a shot with me, Cap'n?"

"Okay, but I ain't carryin' your sloppy self upstairs when you pass out."

They downed the last of the potent liquid and Kaylee tucked the bottle under her arm. She stood shakily and extended a hand.

"Ready to play?"

Mal raised a brow.

"Don't think the doctor would much like you and me playin', Lil Kaylee." Not to mention that Kaylee was as much a sister to him as the woman who owned this farmhouse.

"Cap'n!" she hooted a laugh, tugged him over to join the others. "We're playin' Spin the Bottle."

---

Mal kissed a pretty redhead, then watched Inara kiss the same girl, albeit more skillfully, moments later. Through a white wine haze, he saw Jayne land on Kaylee, kiss her long enough to have the doctor squirmin' in his britches.

"Jayne!" Kaylee laughed, swatted him upside the head. "I said no tongue!"

She spun herself and managed to get the doctor. Mal saw Simon's hand creep up to cover her breast as they kissed. Quickly, he averted his eyes, still not quite comfy with his Little Kaylee being all grown.

Simon went next, got Inara, who laughed and brushed his lips lightly as Kaylee made smooching sounds.

"This game's gettin' all sorts of incestuous, and I ain't kissin' Mal again," Jayne muttered. He glanced around the yard drunkenly for possible recruits. "Hey, Caroline, you wanna play?"

"No, she don't," Mal said quickly.

"You're playing Spin the Bottle?" She looked surprised, then amused. "Malcom, remember when Mama caught you playin' in the barn. I think he was eleven," she added for the others.

"Just myself and the Rutherford twins." He grinned, recalling the little blond girls with matching smiles. "Hell, Mama whooped me but good for that one."

"Just for playing Spin the Bottle?" Inara asked.

"The ranch hand that found them said one of the twins was missing her blouse," Caroline explained.

"Hey, that was all her idea!" Mal insisted.

"But I'll bet you didn't protest overmuch," Inara teased.

"Hey, it's Nara's turn!" Kaylee insisted, cuddling under Simon's arm.

"I was hoping you'd forgotten that," Inara laughed but crawled over to where the bottle lay in the center of the circle, gave it a good spin. They all watched the nose come to a stop, pointing straight at Mal.

"Ohh," Kaylee said softly, some part of her brain recalling why she'd started up the game in the first place.

The others watched expectantly. Even Jayne stopped trying to lure scantily clad women, his eyes on the captain.

"Good spin," Mal said dryly. "You comin' over here or do I have to get myself up?"

"Oh, I'm bettin' she can get you up, Mal." Jayne grinned, then winced when Simon hit him.

"Inara spun so she goes to you," Kaylee supplied helpfully.

Inara sighed, tried to crawl gracefully across the circle in one of River's flowing skirts. She hesitated in front of him, kneeling on the grass.

Tian de ma, she was like a vision, a religious offering with her blouse slipping off her shoulder, her cheeks pink from the wine and the cold. Mal rose to his knees, reached out a hand to brush glossy black curls from her face.

"Well?" Grateful he couldn't think too clearly, he clasped his hand around the back of her neck, tilted her head. "You gonna kiss me or just sit there holdin' up the game?"

She smiled and removed his hand from her head, returned it to his lap. Carefully, she threaded her fingers through his suspenders, tugged him to within an inch of her lips. Only then did she kiss him, her lips gentle at first, teasing his, coaxing them apart. She let him graze her tongue for a second before pulling away.

"Your spin," she said, enjoying the way he stared, open-mouthed, before she returned to her spot on the lawn.

---

After that last round, Mal escaped to the hammock. Caroline had strung one up out front betwixt a couple o' old pine trees, and Mal figured he was safer by his lonesome nowabouts. If he had to kiss her again, he was sure to embarrass himself.

Mal swung easily on the bed of mesh, staring up at the sky, the stars. They were familiar and reassuring, if not quite as bright as they appeared on Serenity. His eyes drifted closed as the cool night breeze played through his hair.

"Sir."

When next he opened his eyes, the sky was just beginning to turn pink in the east. Zoe was watching him with amusement.

"Hey, there." He tried to move, realized it'd be better on his head and his stomach if he didn't. "Thought you and the Little Chick were gone to bed."

"It's near morning, sir."

"So it is." He glanced around the yard. "Where'd everybody go?"

"Oh, I reckon most of 'em stumbled home."

"Huh." Mal let his lashes flutter shut, hoped she's take the hint and let him sleep awhile longer.

"You know, Wash talked on gettin' a farm, sir."

"Did he?" Mal opened one eye. "Funny, but I can't imagine that man grounded. Thought, next to me, he liked flyin' more 'n anyone."

"Loved the ship, sir. Still, he wanted more someday. Wanted a home."

"And what about you?" Mal asked, fully awake now and realizing he wasn't gettin' back to sleep any time soon. "You thinkin' on takin' my niece and fulfilling that dream for him?"

"I'll let you know as soon as I figure that out, sir." She folded her arms across her chest. "We ain't talkin' 'bout me though."

"No. Somehow I didn't think we were." Mal rolled to a sitting position, tried not to fall out of the hammock as his head spun. "Quit swaying, Zoe, it's makin' me all sorts of sick."

"Sir?" She shook her head, unwilling to be drawn into a drunken debate. "I figured it's time someone talks to you. Most o' the others is too afraid, Jayne's mostly useless, and Inara would rather take a bullet. Figured that left me. Stand up."

"Excuse me?" Mal raised a brow. "Less I'm mistaken, I still outrank you, Zoe."

"On your feet, soldier," she said loudly.

He stood, deciding it was in his best interest to cooperate at this juncture. He put a hand to his head, hoping to keep the contents in place.

"Well. Where do you want it, sir?"

"Want what?"

He didn't even see it coming. She drew back and hit him, square in the jaw.

"Shun-SHENG duh gao-WAHN!" Mal bent forward, clutching the side of his face. "Gorramit, what the hell's the matter with you?"

"Someone has to knock some sense into you. Pretty talk's never had much of an effect on you; I decided to go a different way."

"You gonna tell me what's goin' on in that ruttin' head, Zoe?"

"I respect your authority, sir. I think you're a good man, a good captain to everyone on that boat." She shook her head, took a tissue from her pocket and pressed it to his lip. "I just can't watch you self-destruct no more. Been goin' on far too long."

"I don't got a notion of where this is comin' from, Zoe. Thought you of all people knew better than to meddle in business ain't yourn."

"Sir, you were happy with her. May not have been simple--don't reckon either of you is capable of simple. But you were happy."

He looked away, his eyes scanning the low, rolling farmland.

"Captain." She put her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Nothing is forever, sir. Not life, not love, not even that gorram war we fought."

"You think I don't know that?"

"I don't know, sir. Alls I know is there's things I would have said to him. Things I woulda done different if I'd known." Zoe let her hands fall to her sides, leaned back against the tree, staring out over the farm. "I woulda used that time better if I'd known how little there'd be."

"Zoe." Mal wanted done with this discussion, was sick to death of this particular topic. "Inara and I ain't you and Wash. Don't push your regrets off on me. Wasn't me told you to let him into your bed or your..."

"That ain't the part I regret, sir. Don't regret letting Wash inside me; don't regret the physical and sure as hell don't regret the emotional. Part I regret's keepin' him out so long."

"Let her back on the ship, didn't I?"

"Sir, you kidnapped her. And now you can't hardly walk straight, you want her so. She hides it better, but I know she's missing you."

"I'm sorry, when did I start payin' you to matchmake? And whaddaya mean she hides it better?"

"Sir, you didn't die at Serenity Valley. I'm tired of you actin' like you did." Zoe stepped in front of him, hands at her back. "'Haps it ain't my place to say it, but I reckon it needed to be said."

Mal met her eyes a moment, turned and started walking away.

"Leave me alone awhile, Zoe."

"Sir? Why didn't you return that punch, Captain?" she called after his retreating figure.

"Figure it ain't right hittin' somebody's mama," he said without turning. He continued on toward the pond, leaving Zoe alone with the sunrise.

---

Jayne felt like his head was bleeding. He pulled the covers up over his head, burrowing down into the soft silken sheets. Gorramit, this was a nice bed, a hundred times softer than his bunk. It smelled pretty too, like females and vanilla. When had he gone to bed last night? That part was awful fuzzy.

Groaning, Jayne reached down in search of his pocket watch. Huh. No pockets on account of the no pants. What had he done with his pants? That part was awful fuzzy too. After a few more minutes of lyin' there like a lump, Jayne resigned himself to raising his head. Sun might burn his eyes out but Mal'd do worse than that if he didn't get a move on, start prepping for the job tomorrow. Tentatively, Jayne picked his head up off the pillow, squinted one eye open. Big brass bed posts, lavender paint on the walls. How had he wound up in the girlie room? He looked to his left, and suddenly it all made sense, a horrible, stomach-twisting type of sense. Mal's sister slept curled fetal beside him. And she was all sorts of naked.

---

The day wasn't especially warm, but Mal figured he needed to cool off some. He stripped down to his skivvies, left his clothes on a rock and waded into the chill water. He let his legs go numb with cold, then dunked his head under. Not the most orthodox hangover-healer perhaps. Still, he felt better drying off in the grass, the sun baking away both physical aches and frustration. He was half asleep when he heard the crunching sound of footsteps. Shading his eyes against the brightness, he watched her approach, her shiny appearance belying the amount of alcohol she'd consumed the night before. How the hell did women do that, he wondered drowsily.

Inara raked her eyes over him, taking in his wet hair, his undershorts.

"I know you've been off world awhile, Mal. But houses have these amazing rooms with baths now." She hesitated, wrinkled her nose. "Did something happen to your face?"

Mal raised an eyebrow.

"You askin' me into the shower, Nara? Need someone to lather those hard to reach spots?"

"Mm, don't you wish."

"Not especially. If I had you alone in the bath, I doubt either of us would be gettin' any cleaner."

Inara felt her breath hitch, turned her eyes over the water.

"You're in a strange mood this morning."

"Well, crime does tend to give me a happy." He rose to a sitting position, tugged his shirt over his head. "Smile, darlin'. Today you get your fancy lady attire."

"Oh, but I'm not a 'fancy lady' any longer. Now I'm an accomplice to crime."

"Inara." Mal buckled his pants, tugged up the zipper. "Don't think you could stop bein' a fancy lady if you tried."

She opened her mouth to protest then closed it. He reached out a hand, tugging her to her feet.

"Well, come on, cupcake. Those dresses ain't gonna try themselves on."

"Can you not call me cupcake?"

---

When Mal wandered into the kitchen, he found Jayne already washed and dressed, his eyes pouring over a map of the councilman's estate. Mal nodded at him, went to pour coffee.

"Jayne."

"What? I mean, mornin'. Captain." He stood quickly. "Want my seat?"

"There's like five others empty, Jayne," Mal said slowly, as though speaking to a dimwitted child. He sipped his coffee, cut into a slice of his sister's homemade banana bread.

"Now that is one talented woman," he said after the first bite. "You sample a taste, Jayne?"

"What? I didn't taste nothin', Mal."

"Uh huh." He shook his head, polished off the slice. "Kaylee. Doctor."

"Morning!" Kaylee said sunnily. She and Simon were holding hands.

"You're in a cheersome mood," Mal observed. "More than usual, even."

"That's 'cuz last night was extra shiny. Can I tell them?"

Simon shrugged.

"I don't suppose a power in the verse could stop you." But his smile was indulgent.

"Last night--well it was Simon's and my first time in a real bed. You know, like a bed meant for two with real sheets and fluffy pillows."

"I'm real happy for you both," Mal said dryly. "Ain't you happy, Jayne?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, thrilled. Glad someone got sexed last night. 'Cuz I surely didn't!" His voice rose slightly at the end.

"How'd I get me a boatload of crazies?" Mal inquired of no one in particular.

"Good morning, everyone." Inara came in with the baby cuddled to her chest, went to fetch a bottle from the cooler.

"Morning, Nara. Where's Zoe?" Kayle asked.

"She said she had errands, asked me to look after Raven awhile."

"You don't have time for babysittin'. You gotta go spend all my money."

"I have to make you appear respectable, Mal. A task that formidable requires more than a few coins platinum."

"Suppose that ain't but the truth. Still, 'haps the happy couple could watch Little Chick a few hours."

"Sure, Mal," Simon agreed.

Kaylee was beaming.

"Nara, guess what me and Simon got up to last night."

Mal just groaned.

---

"Ching jin. Oh, hello." Inara smiled, motioned for Caroline to sit beside her on the bed. "I have to thank you for the room. Truly, its beautiful."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it." She smoothed a hand over the rose-print paper on the walls. "Did you find everything you needed in town?"

"Yes, the shop had many lovely dresses; I appreciate the recommendation."

Caroline glanced at the pile on the bed.

"May I?"

"Of course."

She peeled back layers of tissue to reveal an off-the-shoulder cocktail dress in inky black.

"Ravishing. I fear I put you in an awkward position when I asked Malcom to take this job."

Inara smiled, not bothering to pretend she misunderstood.

"You needn't feel guilty. I put myself in that position when I chose to ship out with Serenity."

"You knew you loved him that early?"

"I knew I couldn't stand him," Inara said laughing. "Mal and I--we have a complicated relationship."

"My brother is nothing if not complicated. You do love him though, don't you? Forgive me for prying. I know it's none of my business, only...I'd feel better when he's gone if I knew you did. I realized a long time ago I'd never get Malcom back the way he was before the war. He came back so empty, so altered. But I want him to be happy, Inara. As happy as he's capable of being. I'd feel better if I knew he had someone, that he wasn't alone on the ship with his pain for company."

"Caroline." Inara folded the black dress, set it with the others in the bag. "What Mal and I have...what we had, I mean to say..."

"Please, Inara. Woman to woman." She hesitated, studying her brother's lover. "I was almost eleven when Malcom was born. I can remember holding him as a baby."

Inara sighed.

"I love him. Half the time I don't like him. More than occasionally I feel like slapping him. But, no matter how far I try to run, somehow I keep finding my way back to him. Or perhaps it's he who finds me."

"Thank you." Caroline kissed the younger woman's cheek. "That's all I needed to hear."

"Don't worry about Mal. He has a loyal crew. Well, mostly loyal."

"Mm." Caroline's ears glowed red in the lamplight. "A good crew. How long have you known this Jayne fellow?"

---

Mal lay in the hammock, the baby sleeping on his chest. She fisted her tiny fingers in his shirt, her little legs stretching as she dreamed, her small body warm against his. Rutting hell, this one would be a heartbreaker. Kid wasn't two months in the world, and already he couldn't imagine his ship without her. He supposed it'd only get worse as she grew. By the time she was five, she'd probably be flying the damn boat, Uncle Mal helpless to refuse her. If she was anything like her daddy, she'd have the skill. He was particularly eager for the little chick to start talking. Something told him she'd have lots to say.

"Captain."

Mal glanced over to see Simon approaching. The doc had forgone his usual shirt and vest, trading them for a faded gray t-shirt and some funny-looking sandals.

"Doctor. I can see this casual country living's gone to your head."

"Oh, yes. I'm liable to start milking cows any minute now."

"You just keep up that sarcastic thing, Doc. Where's your girlfriend?"

"Kaylee? She went back to Serenity to look for gadgets. You know, for the crime."

"Good girl," Mal said approvingly. "Still not sure how we're gonna access this guy's files, even if we are guests in his home."

"I'm sure you'll come up with a plan. Not necessarily a good plan, but..."

"Did you want something, Doc? Besides pesterin' me and the little chick here?"

"I want to talk about River, Mal."

"What about her?"

"It's not that I resent being here--your sister seems like a lovely person, and I'm sure this job is important to the people of Shadow."

"You approachin' a point, son?"

"The point is I'm not overly interested in doing battle with the Alliance at this juncture. My main goal is finding and rescuing my sister."

"I'm aware of that, Doc. And you know I have the same aim in mind."

"I don't think my sister's hiding out in some swai little farming community."

"No, don't reckon she is. But ain't like we can hop in Serenity and set a course for her. Otherwise, we'd have the little albatross back on board."

"Captain. Not to be insolent, but I highly doubt a local councilor will possess the knowledge of my sister's whereabouts."

"No, I don't 'spect he will. But one secret has a way of outting the next. Lies tend to come in layers, Doctor."

"I just...I'm tired of waiting, Mal. I feel like I'll go insane if I don't do something soon."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know the feeling."

---


	5. Chapter 5

---

Inara stood before the mirror in just her slip. With delicate hands, she lifted the long, mint-green gown from the bed, held it against her body like an old friend. Though no longer a companion, she had a weakness for pretty things. Especially pretty, silken things that clung to her curves, fluted out at the hip and fell down to brush her ankles. She stepped into the skirts, bringing the straps up to tie behind her neck. She dabbed cologne at her throat, slipped her arms into a gold brocaded jacket.

"Oh, this is so much better than sweatshirts," she murmured to her reflection. Heedful of wrinkles, she sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, began to check the contents of her purse.

"Ching jin," she called when she heard the knock. "Hey, you."

She smiled warmly, patted the bed for Kaylee to sit.

"Oh, Nara." Kaylee whistled, stroking a hand down Inara's full skirt. "You're pure evil. Cap'n's gonna hafta sleep with an ice pack on his nethers."

"Kaylee!"

"I'm just teasin'." She lifted the pendant at Inara's throat, stroked the ruby tear drop between her fingers. "Where'd you get this bit o' shiny?"

"I--it doesn't really go with the dress." Inara unclasped the necklace, let it fall into her palm. "Anyway, you shouldn't poke fun at the poor Captain. Not when he bought you such a lovely present."

"The Cap'n don't give presents," Kaylee said, eyes narrowed.

"He bought one for you. Only he doesn't know it yet." Inara smiled, handed Kaylee a bundle wrapped in tissue paper. "Well? Go on, open it."

"Nara..." Kaylee peeled away the paper, lifted a simple white sundress in eyelet lace.

"Do you like it?" Inara led Kaylee to the mirror, held the spaghetti straps even with her shoulders. "I know you prefer pink, but this one caught my eye."

"Oh, Inara." She pressed the rich fabric against herself.

"Now you'll have to convince the doctor to take you someplace nice."

"Yeah, don't think we've had a proper date since that whole cow in a jar thing."

"Perhaps you can try for something a tad more romantic," Inara said laughing.

"And how 'bout you? Any romance in the works for your weekend getaway?"

"It's a job, Kaylee. You know how Mal gets about work. He'll probably forget I'm even there."

"Not likely in that little number." Kaylee wrapped an arm around Inara's waist, studying their reflection in the glass. "Seriously, the man ain't gonna know what hit him."

Inara smiled but her eyes were serious.

"I'm not trying to hurt him, Kaylee."

"No." She smiled wistfully. "You two never did have to try."

---

Mal sighed, shot Inara his exasperated look. It was a look with which she was vaguely familiar.

"I don't care what you say, Mal. I'm not getting into that death trap."

"It ain't a death trap!" he protested.

"It's a gorram antique!"

"Oh, she's streetworthy,darlin'. Had one exactly like her 'fore the War."

"That's sort of what worries me."

"Inara...it's just an automobile." He patted the roof of the vehicle Jem was generous enough to lend. "Anyone with half a brain can drive one."

"So you understand my concern."

Mal smiled darkly.

"I asked for a wife, not a comedienne."

"The doors look ready to rust off."

"Hey. This model is a pearl. I used to take mine everywhere as a kid."

"I'm sure you did. Your very own bedroom on wheels."

"Inara." He took a breath, strove for patience. "If you got so little faith in my driving skills, why don't you take the helm?"

"No, thanks," she said dryly.

"Come now. Don't tell me you never learned to drive..."

"I must have missed that oh-so-shiny experience."

"Yeah." He took a step closer. "Bet you missed out on a few shiny experiences."

"I--let's just go." She slipped past him, sliding into the passenger seat. "Try not to kill us on the way."

"Sure." He climbed behind the wheel, adjusted his party clothes. "But 'fore we leave this rock, I'm surely gonna teach you to drive."

He peeled onto the road with a squeal of rubber.

---

The councilman met them at the door, invited them into a sunny, glass-walled foyer that looked out on the gardens.

"Devlin and Alicia Parks, I presume." He shook Mal's hand, let his fingers linger on Inara's wrist. "I'm so pleased you could be with us this weekend. As you know, I'm rather new to Shadow. I'm eager to meet young couples like yourself, people who wish to work and raise families here. They do say children are the future."

"Do they say that?" Mal asked, wincing when Inara elbowed him.

"The pleasure is all ours, Councilman Blake. You have a lovely home." She studied their host, a tall, broad-shouldered man well past fifty. His dark hair was streaked with gray and a slim white scar stood out over his eyebrow.

"I'm proud to say I designed it myself. Everything's top of the line, from the entertainment complex to the security staff."

"Did your wife handle all the decorating on her own?"

"Alas, Alicia, I'm unmarried. It seems I haven't your husband's luck for attracting beautiful women."

Inara smiled, dropped her gaze.

"You're too kind."

"Is that so?" Mal shook his head. "Must be you ain't lookin' hard enough. Shadow's full of lonely widows, Councilor."

"I understand the war was devastating to this planet."

"So I'm told," Mal agreed.

"Dev? Darling." Inara curved her lips in a smile. "I need some time to dress for dinner."

"Right. Wouldn't wanna be seen in my daytime pants after the sun goes down." Mal took her arm, tucked it through his. "Care to point us in the proper direction, Councilor?"

---

Kaylee filled the clawfoot tub to the rim, added raspberry bath salts from the canister by the sink. She sunk in slowly, letting her body adjust to the unfamiliar warmth. Kaylee couldn't remember the last time she'd had a bona fide bath. It was a real luxury to linger in hot water without being interrupted every five minutes. She loved the cap'n to bits, but he didn't hesitate to haul her outta the shower or anyplace else for the tiniest mechanical mishap. She stretched her feet gloriously in the bubbles.

After, as her hair dried in waves around her face, Kaylee tried on the dress. Funny, but she'd never owned anything so clean-lookin' before, so bright and white and pristine. The door opened and she turned, shamed to be caught playing dress-up.

"Wow." Simon stepped inside slowly, closed the door behind him. "You look...wow."

"Nara got if for me," she said, blushing. "She's a doll, but it's sorta silly. Where am I gonna wear something this rich?"

Simon crossed the room, turned her around and took her face in his hands, used his fingers to brush back her hair. Kaylee closed her eyes, waiting for him to kiss her.

"Marry me," he said quickly.

Kaylee opened her eyes.

"Shah muh?"

"Today, here on Shadow."

"Simon-"

"I love you. Be my wife."

"This ain't you bein' ironical, is it?"

"I don't want to wait any longer. I'm tired of waiting, tired of putting my life on hold. If there's one thing I've learned from these last years--from you-- it's that nothing's certain. We can't guarantee our future, can't even guarantee a future. The people we love have a way of slipping through our fingers. I refuse to let that happen with you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Simon," she said softly. "I ain't goin' nowhere."

"We almost missed out on all this." He stroked her hair. "I almost missed out on being with you."

"But we lived. We're here, Simon, you and me."

"And that's the way I want it. Forever." Simon knelt on the floor, took her hand between his. "Marry me, Kaylee."

"Oh, jeez. I'm gonna blubber like a baby through the whole damn ceremony." Simon was smiling.

"Is that a yes?"

"Hell, yes, Doctor."

He stood up and spun her around the room.

---

Inara glanced around the room while Mal tipped the bellhop. The space was small but immaculate, all clean lines and coordinating colors. Aside from a walnut dressing table and striped green chaise, there was a queen-sized brass sleigh bed outfitted all in ivory.

She jumped when the door slammed.

"Ai ya, can you believe this place?" Mal sat on the edge of the bed, started unlacing his boots. "How many wings you reckon?"

"At least three. Maybe more."

"Mrs. Reynolds, I do believe you settled. Especially since our man Blake's a bachelor."

"Mal, do you honestly think I'm interested in the councilman's marital status?"

"He is a mite old for ya."

"He's unmarried, Mal. And yet, if you ask me, he's not the type to sleep alone."

Mal nodded, realizing her intention.

"So you wanna go at him sideways, see if we can't slip a little money into the right hands, 'haps bribe one of his bedfellows?"

"It's worth a try. If he has a lover, I'm guessing she'll be at the party this evening."

"You know, Inara, you've a decent criminal mind. I've half a notion to kiss you."

"Not now, dear." Inara unzipped her garment bag, removed the black cocktail dress. "The missus has a headache."

She carried her things into the powder room to change.

---

Mal intercepted Inara on the dance floor, put a hand on the small of her back to guide her.

"Here." He pressed a slim brown billfold into her hands. "Slip this down your dress."

"Mal!"

But she complied, tucking the wallet casually into her cleavage.

"What?" Mal shrugged, ushered her back to their table. "You said that guy with the bow tie grabbed your ass out there. I'm just doin' what any self-respecting husband oughta, defendin' the virtue of my nubile new bride."

"Ren si de fo zu." Her voice rose, arousing several curious stares. "I swear if you call me nubile one more time--"

"Alicia. Dev." The councilman swooped in with two champagne glasses. "I trust nothing's amiss?"

"Everything's fine, Councilor," Inara said with an easy smile.

"Yep, my bride's just feelin' a mite nervy. I been travellin' for work since our nuptials last month." Mal put an arm around Inara's shoulders, gave an affectionate squeeze. "This is sorta our wedding night if you catch my meaning."

"How charming." Blake gestured subtly, and a waiter appeared at his side. "Nick, see that a bottle of our best champagne finds its way upstairs for the lovely couple."

"Really, that isn't necessary," Inara tried, digging her nails into Mal's back.

"Sure it is, cupcake." Mal grinned at their host, lowered his voice to a conspiring whisper. "She's just a little eager. Been savin' herself for me."

Inara nearly choked on her champagne.

"Alright there, candy corn?" Mal thumped her back. "Wouldn't want you hurtin' yourself now."

"Truly, madame." Blake lifted Inara's hand to his lips. "You bestow upon this man a great gift in your innocence. It's refreshing to meet young people who still value propriety."

"Now, that is something. Didn't I say the same thing not last week?"

Inara curved her lips in a smile, leaned up to kiss Mal's cheek near the ear.

"I'm going to hurt you later," she murmured.

"That a promise?" he whispered.

She told herself it was anger, not excitement that had adrenaline pulsing through her body.

"Councilor, would you do me the honor of a dance?" she asked, slipping out of Mal's hold.

"Alicia, the honor is all mine." Blake took her arm. "Don't worry, Dev. I won't keep her away long."

"Oh, keep her as long as you like," Mal muttered, toasting them with his champagne. Inara shot him a death glare as the councilman led her away.

---

They told the others they were off to have a date. If she didn't count the cow fetus, it was sort of the first date, the pair of 'em dressing all fine, heading into town. If her daddy were alive, he'd laugh, say it was just like his little Kaywinnet, gettin' hitched on the first date.

"Kaylee, wait." Simon caught her wrist outside the door to the chapel, turned her about to face him.

"You're not changin' your mind on me, Doctor?" Her smile faltered. "Are ya?"

"Kaylee. There isn't a power in this 'verse that could stop me from marrying you. Not cannibalistic savages nor psychotic lowlifes nor overprotective ship captains nor crazy man-ape things."

"Mm, I do like when you talk all pretty." She nuzzled against his neck, wrapping her arms round his waist.

It was starting to rain. He drew her under the awning, kissed her lips gently.

"I just don't want you to regret this later. Doing it this way, without your...our friends. I'd understand if you wanted to wait for Inara. Or Mal..."

Kaylee grinned, her cheekbones cutting high in her face.

"You want the Cap'n to stand up for ya?"

"I think he's more likely to punch me. But I'd risk a broken nose...if you wanted him to give you away or something..."

"Aw, that's kinda sweet and...weird. The Cap'n ain't my daddy, Simon. I'm a big girl, and I can decide how and when to give myself." She smiled, kissed him. "And I choose you, Simon Tam."

And he would never understand why she had. But he was certainly grateful.

"Well, then." He threaded his fingers through her. "I think we have a wedding to attend."

"You scared?"

"N-no. Of course not."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Truth."

"Petrified."

"Me too." She grinned, kissed him hard on the mouth. "Let's go get hitched."

---

"Dance with me." She slipped her hand through his. "And try not to touch me overmuch."

"Anythin' you say, darlin'." He held her snugly around the waist, let one hand glide over the bare skin of her back as they moved. "How much did this dress set me back?"

"Do you like it?" she whispered near his ear.

"Ain't it a little short?" he asked, running his hands down her sides.

"Isn't that the point?" she countered, slapping them away.

"Honey," he chided. "You'll make me jealous."

"I guess that's a risk we'll have to take. The woman in the red gown. Don't look!"

Mal rolled his eyes.

"If I don't look, how my 'sposed to see her?"

"Just don't be so obvious about it."

"Sweetheart, subtlety's my middle name. That Blake's beloved?"

"This week at least. It seems the councilman gets around. Adda Baxter is a runway model."

He snuck a glance at the slim girl, boy-bodied and hipless with ropes of blond hair wrapped around her ears.

"Huh, looks kinda young for him."

"Mm, yes. She'll be twenty-two her next birthday."

"Inara." He tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. "You're damn good at reconnaissance. Hell, you're kinda turnin' me on here."

"Well, we wouldn't want that." She slipped her hands off his shoulders, stepped back. "Go make nice with the rich and richer, Mal."

"And you go get chummy with Adda Baxter."

---

She wanted to do it outside, in spite of the gentle rainfall, the cooling night air. He waited for her in the garden behind the one non-denominational chapel in town. The pastor stood beneath the ivy-wrapped trellis, his wife sitting on the bench as witness.

"You want me to marry you today?" the preacher had asked, surprised, when the two young people appeared on his doorstep.

"Actually, right now," Simon had told him. Kaylee just grinned.

Now he watched her approach, her white dress luminous against the darkening sky, her feet bare. She had white flowers in her hair, a bouquet of them in her hands.

"Hi," she said when she was beside him.

He smiled and took her hand. They stood before the preacher, the mist settling at their feet, the raindrops pearling in their hair. All around him the garden burst with green, flowered with life.

The pastor began to speak, but Simon scarcely heard him. He'd been to a dozen weddings back on Osiris. None of the ceremonies felt so natural, so real and honest and true.

"Have you prepared your own vows?" the pastor asked.

"I''d like to say something," Simon told him.

"Simon!" Kaylee lowered her voice to a whisper. "Didn't know we was 'sposed to write vows..."

He smiled and cupped her cheek, pink from the cold.

"You're so beautiful. More so because you don't realize it."

She smiled, her eyes glistening with wetness. Simon used the pad of his thumb to brush away tears.

"You've saved me more times than I can count, and in every way that counts. If it weren't for you, Mal probably would have tossed me out the airlock a few worlds back. Or left me on some desolate moon. Or perhaps shot me."

Kaylee giggled and Simon pressed on, ignoring the curious looks from the pastor and his wife.

"You befriended me and my sister, made me laugh when I didn't think there was anything in the 'verse worth smiling about. You helped heal her, heal us both actually. I gave up everything I knew to rescue River. I thought I was all alone in the 'verse. Then I saw a pretty girl on Persephone, a sweet, smiling girl with pigtails and a parasol. You gave me everything, Kaylee. I'm honored you let me into your life, into your heart and your bed and your world. I'm honored you've agreed to marry me. As your medic, I think you might need your head examined. But as your soon-to-be husband...well, I'm just honored. I'm gonna do everything in my power to make you happy, Kaylee. You deserve to be happy."

"Simon. That was real sweet." She brushed tears from the corners of her eyes. "I ain't any good with speeches. Alls I know is I love you, Simon Tam. Have ever since Canton, when we drank all that Mudder's Milk and fell asleep on eachother. Or maybe I knew before, back when you wandered on to that derelict transport with your suit prepped wrong. Hell, Simon, I mighta fallen in love the day you sewed up my stomach wound."

Simon smiled, stroked her hair. The pastor was fidgeting uncomfortably now, but neither of them noticed.

"I'm real proud to be made Mrs. Simon Tam today. I can't barely wait to be your wife...and River's new sister. I never been a wife or a sister before. This feels real right to me. I love you, Simon."

He slipped the simple silver band on her finger and kissed her under the trellis.

---

Mal caught Inara's arm in passing, tugged her into the hallway.

"So?"

"She seems the loyal sort. Very young and sweet. Innocent."

"Damn." He rubbed at his temples--the orchestra was giving him a headache. "Well, was a good idea anyway."

"Still, she should be more careful with her things." Inara slipped off one of her heels, turned the shoe over in her hand. She held up a narrow strip of plastic. "The Councilman's room key."

"Wait, how'd you get...?"

"Girlfriends accompany each other to the rest room, Mal." Inara rolled her eyes. "I held her purse while she peed."

Mal shook his head, impressed. He tucked the key in his vest pocket.

"I'm gonna take a walk around the manor. Think your pretty little feet can handle a few more spins?"

"You needn't worry about me, Mal; this is what I do. Or, did. Try to return the key within the hour, though. I don't want her getting in trouble with him."

"No, we wouldn't want that."

"Mal," she whispered. "Watch your back."

"I would. 'Cept I can't seem to quit watchin' yours."

Their eyes met for a second before he disappeared around the corner.

---

Gorrammit, he'd gone and sexed Mal's sister again.

This was bad. Even if Mal and Nara were off playin' house, the others would squeal on him soon as look at him. 'Haps Lil' Kaylee would hesitate, not wantin' to see him riddled with holes. But the Doc and Zoe--hell, they'd let Mal run him through the engine without shedding a tear. Yep, this was a ruttin' disaster. Real bad.

"Are you hungry?"

Ta ma duh, she was awake. Jayne never did know what to say to 'em after.

"I--uh." Jayne shrugged. "You don't gotta cook for me or nothin'."

"I just thought you might be worn out after that." Caroline stroked slender fingers over his bare shoulder. "That kind of zeal burns calories."

"I wasn't too rough, was I?"

She just smiled, cuddled against his chest.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with what you just did, nor the way you did it."

"I ain't used to bein' with...you know, proper ladies."

She rolled on top of him, sat astride his hips. Flesh to flesh. He felt his body respond, dug his fingers into her backside as she began to move.

"No offense, Jayne." She bent her head forward, a curtain of dark hair falling into his face. "But I sure hope you don't start treating me like a lady."

Hell, he was humped.

---

Kaylee let Simon lead her up the stairs in a daze. At first she'd been disappointed to find all the others in bed. She'd wanted to race home after the ceremony, tell everyone their news. But Simon protested that he'd yet to buy his wife a romantic dinner. Or any meal whatsoever. He took her to an outdoor cafe with real cloth napkins and waxy candle stubs in silver holders. When she shivered in her thin dress, he draped his coat over her shoulders. They sampled the local wines--full bodied reds, dry whites and a sweet blueberry with dessert. After she was giggly and giddy, a brand-new heady sensation inhabiting her brain. She was Mrs. Simon Tam. Mrs. Dr. Tam, I am--hell, she'd married a doctor. The thought was enough to have her tripping in the dark hallway. Simon caught her by the arms, held her up while she laughed.

"Careful," he teased. "I don't want you spending our wedding night in the infirmary."

"The infirmary could be nice," she hinted devilishly. Even though they weren't at their room yet, she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him long and slow against the wall.

"I love you, Mr. Tam. Hell, I feel like shoutin' it from the rooftop."

"Keep in mind that the sooner Mal finds out, the sooner he disables me. The honeymoon may be more fun if I'm not in traction."

"What's traction?" she murmured, her lips sucking at a spot on his throat.

"Oh, God, Kaylee." He slid his hand up her rib cage, spread his fingers to cover her breast. At this rate, they'd never make it to the bedroom.

She unbuttoned his shirt, peeled the fabric back from his chest and lowered her mouth to the bare skin.

"My husband's got some nice abs," she murmured. Her hand slid down to press against the fly of his pants.

He groaned, started pushing her dress up over her hips.

"You're incredible. Do you know that, Kaylee? Or should I say Mrs. Tam? Wait. Mrs. Tam's my mother. Can I still call you Kaylee?"

"Call me whatever you like, just take your damn pants off."

He pushed her up against the wall, fisted his hands in her hair while she tugged impatiently at his trousers. They both froze when they heard the thump sound from one of the bedrooms.

Kaylee recovered first, pushed her dress down over her hips and crept toward the door. She cocked her head, listening.

"Kaylee, maybe we shouldn't be--"

Crack. Someone hit the door again from the inside, harder this time.

"Gorramit, girl," a voice groaned.

"Is that...?" Simon whispered.

"Yep." Kaylee slapped a hand over her mouth. "That's Jayne, alright."

"But that's Caroline's room."

"That's right." Kaylee was beaming.

"Why are you smiling? Mal's going to shoot him." Simon pretended to reconsider. "Well, now that I think about it..."

"Look on the bright side, Simon." She started tugging him toward their room. "Cap'n ain't gonna be able to stay mad at us once he learns Jayne's sexin' his sister."

"You know, Kaylee. I think you may be a genius."

"Who am I to argue?"

They made love on a bed with fluffy pillows.

---

Around two, Jayne unwound himself from the lithe female body sleeping beside him. Careful not to wake her, he dressed in the dark and closed the door silently behind him. She was a sweet little thing, pretty and eager to please, eager to take pleasure which was just as important by his way of thinking. Wasn't hardly any fun if they weren't enjoying it. This lady was mature too, worldly in her own way. Still, it'd never work. Partly 'cuz Mal would cut off his man parts if he knew. But that wasn't the main hitch. Jayne just didn't do relationships. He wasn't a lover like Wash had been, a kid like Simon. He wasn't even a sucker like Mal, drawn in by a pair of dark gypsy eyes and a mouth that didn't hesitate to flap its opinions.

Jayne crept down the stairs, grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door. He felt like takin' a walk. Maybe he'd stroll over to Serenity, poke around for somethin' to occupy his attentions awhile. There were a lot o' lonely hours till morning.

---

Inara begged off after her second dance with the Councilor's nephew. Despite what she'd told Mal, her feet were starting to ache. She slipped into the hall, unbuckled her heels and hid them in a flower pot. Wo de ma, her former house mistress would have killed her for a stunt like that. In all likelihood, her house mistress wouldn't approve of her lying, stealing or snooping either. But then that was the beauty of being forcibly dismissed. She didn't have to answer to anyone, not the Guild and certainly not Mal. Mal. Where in the 'verse was that man? He'd been got over an hour, and the party was beginning to wind down. Even the glitzy rich couldn't dance all night. In her stockings, she started up the stairs to find him.

She found the councilor's room easily enough. It sat at the end of the hallway, behind a pair of sturdy, yellow-wood doors. Adda had mentioned that it faced the lake, said she could see the moonlight skate over the water from Blake's bed. Inara glanced down the hall, raised her hand to knock. Before her knuckles brushed wood, the door opened. A man not Mal frowned down at her.

"Pardon me, Miss...Wuh de tyen, ah. Inara?"

She blinked, disbelieving. An angular face with a firm jaw, a long patrician nose. Sandy hair going gray at the temples and deep, sea-green eyes. It couldn't be.

"Inara, for God's sake, say something."

Inara forced her lips to smile.

"Hello, Trevor."

---

Thousands of miles away, River Tam lay awake in her bunk, unable to sleep. The Champion glided soundlessly through space, and one door down Gideon dreamed. River pushed back the covers, padded barefoot onto the bridge.

"All the king's horses and all the king's men," she murmured, watching the stars fly past. Then, rather suddenly, she smiled. "Hello, again. I missed you."

"Yeah, little girl. I missed you too. And I'm not the only one."

"I had to do it," she said sadly. "Had to go."

"Martyrdom is overrated, honey. Trust me."

"Shouldn't the knights sleep at night? Lie down their armor and rest their weary heads?"

"Sorry, sweetie. I never got your word games when I was alive. Bein' all corpsified doesn't seem to help."

She smiled.

"Raven. That's a nice name."

"Yep, Zoe did good. I bet she'd like you to meet the wee babe."

"Someday I'll go back. They'll have a celebration. Flowers and treats for everyone."

"They want you home, honey."

"They want you home, too. But we don't always get what we want." She wrapped her arms round her ankles, dipped her head forward so her temple touched her knee. "I got it wrong--back on Bellerophon. I saw everything wrong."

He patted her shoulder.

"That..sucks?"

"Humpty dumpty, cracked like an egg. They should be glad. They'll finally get to see what's inside."

"I'm gonna take a guess and say we're talking medicine, not breakfast."

"The funny one," she said with a fond smile.

"I don't know much, Little River. But sounds to me like you should talk to a doctor. Hey, don't we know one of them?"

He was gone before she could answer.

---


	6. Chapter 6

---

Accustomed now to her daughter's cries, Zoe woke immediately, rolled out of bed and approached the cradle where Raven slept.

"It belonged to my Ella," Caroline had explained, as Zoe hefted the small brass piece down from the attic, carried it over by the bed.

"And how old's your baby girl now?" Zoe asked, watching Caroline bounce Raven lightly in her arms.

"She'd have been eleven this winter."

Zoe nodded and they left it at that.

Now Zoe knelt on the floor, lifted her fretting little girl and curled the warm, squirming body against her chest. Carrying her to the bed, she lay the baby out beside her, unbuttoning the Hawaiian shirt she used for a nightgown. Twice already tonight, but Zoe didn't mind...didn't mind much, anyway. She appreciated this time together, these quiet moments late at night, even if in the morning her eyes would be blurry, her brain fuzzy from lack of sleep.

"You know, Baby Girl. Your daddy was always one for midnight snacks." She glanced at the clock by her bed. More like two in the AM.

She sighed, stroked a finger over the baby's cheek, marveling at the way her tiny lips moved.

"Your daddy would just adore you to pieces. He'd show you off somethin' crazy, tellin' anybody'd listen that his baby girl was prettiest in the 'verse. 'Spect he wouldn't be wrong."

Zoe yawned, let her eyes flutter shut for a moment. She'd been dreaming before the baby cried out in the night. Lately she dreamt often, good dreams that stayed with her when she woke. If she let herself, she could visualize him now, sitting at the foot of the bed, watching her feed their baby.

"Husband?" she murmured sleepily.

"I'm here, Sweetie. Watching over my girls..."

Zoe closed her eyes again, serene beneath his watchful gaze.

---

Jayne stomped down Serenity's silent catwalks, made his way up to the cockpit. He loved this ship like, well, a lover. More so since he'd never had a lover, exactly. Sexed plenty o' women, but ruttin' wasn't lovin' and Jayne never felt right tellin' girls otherwise. He didn't mind the cuddlin' bit after, playin' with their hair and holdin' 'em and stuff. Aw, hell, he didn't wanna think 'bout none o' that. Could become a non-issue anyway, once Mal found out about Caroline, started hackin' off bits of his body.

With a shrug, Jayne flopped down in the pilot's chair, stacked his legs up on the console. He never could sleep off ship. Past couple years, he'd come to rely on Serenity's easy lull, the ship sheathed in the Black like the body of a beautiful woman. Gorramit, he was back on sex again. How was it that always happened with him? He closed his eyes, lay his head back against the seat rest. Ai ya, he was eager to get off this rock. Was somethin' downright comfortin' about travel. When they were flying, Jayne always knew where the others was. He knew he could corner Lil' Kaylee in the engine room, harass her with dumb questions till she tossed him out. He knew he could harangue Mal for a game of horseshoes, bait Simon into a few hands of cards. Zoe tended to cart the baby around while she worked. Usually she let him take the kid an hour or two, didn't ask why. Jayne liked to walk her around Serenity, point out the hidden compartments, tell her stories about her weird-ass aunts and uncles.

It was even good havin' Inara back on board. Admittedly, Kaylee was bouncier than usual, thrilled to have her best friend again. But at least dinners was back to normal. Mealtimes never did feel right without the constant backdrop of Mal and Inara's bickering. To be truthsome, Jayne liked routine, reveled in it even. Took him near a month to realize the little witch was really gone. Sometimes he still wandered on to the bridge, expecting to see her small form huddled over the yoke. Stupid kid--what the hell had she been thinkin' taking his gun that way, holdin' her own self hostage. What power in the 'verse made him give her that gun?

Jayne mulled that one over for awhile, half dozing in the chair. He was mostly asleep when he heard the voice, wondered if he was dreaming.

"Jayne."

He blinked his eyes open, glanced quickly around the cockpit. Empty.

"Jayne."

Oh, mother of God, was she in his head now? Get out of my brain, girl, he thought furiously.

"I would if you'd quit being such a boob." She smiled up at him from the cortex. "Hi, Jayne."

---

Dewei Trevor took Inara's hand, brought it up to rest against his cheek.

"Oh, my dear."

She let him draw her close, wrap her in his arms.

"Is it truly you?" he murmured. "It's been too long, Inara."

"Almost three years," Inara agreed, smiling in the way he'd recall. "Trevor, what are you doing here?"

"We've so much to speak on, really. Come, let's sit, talk where we won't be disturbed." He released his hold on Inara. With one hand, he withdrew a key card from his coat pocket. His other closed around the doorknob

Inara felt panic curl in her belly. Oh, go suh. Mal, please be already gone. But then what reason was there for the hold up? She lay a hand on Trevor's shoulder.

"Perhaps we shouldn't..."

"You needn't worry--Councilor Blake's a close personal friend." He pushed open the door, drew her into the dark room.

Trevor murmured a phrase in Mandarin, and the lights flickered, shined full on, illuminating the rich furnishings of the councilor's bedchamber. Inara allowed Trevor to lead her toward the bed, her bare feet sinking in thick cream carpet.

He smiled, amused.

"Whatever happened to your shoes, mei mei?"

He sat, patting the thick scarlet duvet for her to join him.

"Oh, I..." She smiled, lowered herself to the mattress with her legs tucked beneath her. "You remember my weakness for troublesome footwear, Trevor. My eyes and my feet seem not to compare notes when it comes to pretty shoes."

He smiled, reaching out to tuck a dark curl behind her ear.

"Ah, of course."

She curved her lips, forced her chest to draw in air through the binding dress.

"So? Are you going to tell me what stroke of good fortune brought us both to Shadow?"

"Less good fortune than good business-sense. Though seeing you again is the greatest payoff of all." He smiled fondly. "The councilman's asked that I invest in his new business venture. I won't try you with the details."

"Please do." She darted covert glances around the room, noting the wide walk-in closets, the adjoining bathroom. Where was he? "I always found your work fascinating, Trevor."

"In truth, I don't know all the particulars. Just that it's a science project of sorts. Medical research of a kind." He played with the loose strand of her hair. "I like the idea of leaving a legacy, using my money to help people. You see, Inara, I'm an old man now."

"You don't look old."

"And with you, I never felt that way." He met her eyes, his own warm. "You have a way of making a man feel worthy, my dear. In your company, a tired old war horse can play the part of a young stallion."

Her face flushed, and she lowered her eyes to the bedspread.

"Trevor."

"Why ever did they let you go, Inara? You were...are...beyond compare."

"You're too kind," she said quietly.

"My sister waved me with the news. She was saddened."

Dominique. Inara felt her breath trip, had to fight for calm, fight back the memories. If she closed her eyes, she'd see the elder companion now. A curl of strawberry-blond hair, shrewd green eyes that saw past everything, anything. She could recall the press of Nique's lips, light and cool and coaxing against flushed skin.

"Inara? Are you alright? You look as though you've met ghost."

Inara willed the color to return to her cheeks, tried to lift them in a smile.

"I'm fine, Trevor. Just caught up in remembering."

"She said it was a political dispute, between you and the Guild. Is that so?"

"I loathe to discuss such an ugly matter as politics on such a happy occasion. Dominique always took an interest in me, even when I was but a girl," Inara said, choosing her words carefully. "Is she well?"

"Very. In fact she's accompanied me on this trip."

Inara blinked.

"I--how nice for you both."

Trevor curved his hand around her cheek, stroked down her face with the pad of his thumb.

"I ached for you, Inara. When you left the House all those years ago...I thought you'd wave me when you got wherever it was you were going. Where did you go, my dear?"

"Oh, here and there." She shrugged a single shoulder, unfolded her legs to dangle off the bed. "Mostly, I traveled. "

"Nique cried for days, she missed you so."

Inara smiled cooly, lay her hand atop his.

"You look well, Trevor. The same as the day I left."

"And you are, as always, a vision. Tell me, Inara. What brings a queen like yourself to a backwards little planet like Shadow?"

She hesitated. Then she felt a hand slide down the back of her leg, squeeze lightly at the calf. She nearly jumped, had to focus all her concentration on keeping still. She met Trevor's eyes, trying fervently not to visualize Mal crouched beneath the councilor's bed.

"I never could keep secrets from you." She felt Mal squeeze her leg again, harder this time, in warning. She kicked back with her heel, winced as her foot connected with his head. Oh, well. Mal had a hard skull. "The truth is I came to Shadow with my husband. I--I'm married now, Trevor."

If the news disappointed him, he hid it well.

"Inara. I admit I'm rather surprised. But I'm happy for you. Truly, I am, my dear."

"That pleases me more than you know, Trevor."

"And are you content with him? Does he treat you well?"

"Oh, he's...a dreamboat." She bit her lip hard to keep the giggle from escaping. "Patient and gentle...even-tempered. An easy man, my Devlin."

"I'm glad for you, darling. As Nique will be, I'm sure." He squeezed Inara's hand. "You'll lunch with us tomorrow, give my sister and I the chance to meet this patient, gentle, even-tempered man of yours."

Another not-so-gentle squeeze. She resisted the urge to kick him again, lowered her eyes guiltily.

"Trevor, I wasn't completely honest with Dev about my...past. He has no idea about my career."

"He doesn't know you worked as companion? Why ever not?" Trevor frowned. "Is he some sort of bigot, Inara?"

"Nothing like that. Devlin's just...old fashioned. We fell in love so quickly and I didn't want anything tarnishing that...love." She was losing it. True, she'd been trained to tell people what they wanted to hear. But this--layers upon layers of lies...Hysteria seeped inside her. Trevor on the bed, Mal under it. A sleepy councilman likely to put in an appearance any time now. Ai ya, perhaps crime wasn't her forte after all.

"And if he knew of your former job he'd leave you," Trevor pressed.

"Truly, I could never bring myself to make such a wager." She touched his shoulder, squeezed warmly. "A companion concerns herself with the wants of others. This man--Dev--was something I wanted for myself, someone entirely separate from my old life. Do you understand?"

She met his eyes, her own gentle, hypnotic.

"I believe I do, Inara."

"I call myself Alicia now." She smiled. "Alicia Parks."

"Then I'll call you that as well."

He rose, extended a hand to help her to her feet.

"Only let me have one dance, I entreat you. One last gambol with the incomparable Inara Serra. Together we'll bid her ado and give welcome to Alicia Parks."

"I did so miss our dancing, Trevor."

She let him lead her from the room, closing the door with Mal inside.

---

Jayne blinked at the wave, rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

"My drunk?" he muttered. He didn't remember drinkin', not like that ruled it out.

River met his eyes, her own firm.

"Need you to listen, Jayne."

"That really you, girl?"

"Just a picture, color and light. Can't get to the meat without cracking the nut."

Jayne scratched his head.

"Uh, okay. Say...River." It felt strange to call her by name. "You able to give us coordinates? I can run fetch the others. Mal and that brother o' yours want you back somethin' fierce."

She smiled sadly.

"Miles to go, Jayne. I need you to give Simon a message."

"Aw, hell, River. Should tell him yourself. Sit tight, let me go--"

"No time." She glanced over her shoulder, and for a moment Jayne was looking at the back of her neck. Then her face filled the screen again.

She began to talk, spouting medical jargon he didn't understand. He found a pen under the console, rolled up his sleeve and started jotting things down on his forearm. He was writing long after she stopped speaking. When he glanced up, he saw she was watching him, chin in hand.

Now he realized what was different: she'd hacked off her hair. Before it waved down her back like an inky waterfall. A man could get lost in hair like that, assuming he didn't know better. Jayne was pretty sure he knew better.

"Hey, uh, they treatin' you okay out there?"

She smiled.

"Food's better."

"No shock there." Jayne fidgeted, recalling the last time he'd seen her, those few moments they'd been alone before everything went to Hell. "Prolly you're glad to be gone anyhow. Gorramn boat's no place for a teenager. All babies and old folks of late. Hell, River, you ain't missin' out on much."

She cocked her head, met his eyes.

"I would've got your gun away regardless. Hit you if I had to."

"What are you--?"

"Glad we did it my way. You are too, shouldn't feel bad." She pressed on, ignoring the way he stammered. "Have to go now. You'll tell Simon?"

Jayne nodded slowly.

"I'll tell Doc."

---

She'd lost her room key. It could be anywhere--ai ya, she'd been all over the mansion that night. Apparently, she wouldn't be able to slip inside unobtrusively, crawl into a hot bath and wait for morning. She wouldn't have a long wait. The sun was already warming the horizon. Resigned, she raised her hand to knock.

He hadn't gone to bed: that much was clear. With the exception of his jacket, the swank little neck tie, he was still dressed for the party.

"Mal. Hi," she said tentatively. She didn't want an argument now, didn't think she could bear one. "It's alright. Trevor won't give us away."

He stepped back to let her inside, didn't say a word, just watched her. She went to the dressing table, sat on the wicker chair and began unpinning her hair. When she was through, she started on her stockings. They clipped high on her thigh. She rolled them down to her ankles, not bothering to ask him to turn away. What did it matter? Hadn't they seen each other naked--stripped bare in every way that mattered--a hundred times over? She tugged the nylons over her toes, crumpled them in a ball on the dresser.

"Inara."

"Did you run out of pet names, Mal?" Why had she said that? She didn't want to fight.

He came to her, crouched beside her chair.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

She blinked at him.

"I--I'm fine, Mal."

"Really? I'd have to disagree there, darlin'."

"I'll admit it was something of a surprise. I didn't expect to run into an old friend outside the councilor's bedroom."

"No, I'm sure that was a mite...shocking."

Was it disgust on his face? Aversion at the thought of her in Trevor's bed, lying with a man so many years her senior? Or was it fury...

"I said I'm fine, Mal." She realized she didn't sound fine, schooled her voice to be soothing. "Trevor--all of that--was a long while ago."

"You know I ain't one for dredging up what's past. Still, I feel like there's something other, somethin' you ain't tellin' me..." He hesitated, watching her eyes, trying to break past their seal. "Were you in love with that guy, Inara?"

Her eyes went wide. She felt her cheeks burn.

"Mal."

"I didn't mean to say that--God knows I ain't got the right to ask. I just..." Helplessly, he raised his hand to within inches of her face. He let it fall at his side, turned away.

What was wrong with her? They'd been down this thorny path--why tread there again? Because she couldn't help herself. No, that was a lie. She could help herself--she'd been trained to do just that. But she was sick to death of fighting, tired of resisting. She wanted to feel his hand, warm and hard against her body. She fitted her fingers over his, lifted his hand and pressed it over her heart.

"He's a good man. He cared for me, and I...I let him." She met his eyes. "It wasn't more or less."

"You were a kid." He spread his fingers, cupping her with his hand. He could feel her heartbeat through their layered palms.

"It wasn't like that." Her voice was firm even as her lips wavered.

Like Hell, it wasn't. But he didn't say so. For once, he didn't voice any o' his thousand and one thoughts. Instead he lifted her free hand, pressed it over his own heart. She felt the strong, steady pulse. Blood. Life. He held her fingers there, firm against his chest.

"You make me forget." He looked bemused. "I didn't know that was possible."

She swallowed, let her hands fall to her lap.

"Mal..."

He slid a hand over her knee, splayed his fingers up and around her thigh.

"One hell of a dress," he murmured.

He ventured higher, used two fingers to stroke gently at her inner thigh.

She closed her eyes, letting the feather-soft sensation overtake her. He was everything she shouldn't want. A life with him would never be simple. And yet she hadn't know, hadn't even imagined it could be like this.

She let him draw her to her feet, felt his hands cruise over her back, searching for a zipper. Smiling, she took his fingers, guided them to a spot just under her arm.

"Huh," he commented. "Lady clothes. Created especially to confound a man."

He dragged the zipper down her side, slid a hand inside the dress to caress her belly. She stood on tip toe, wrapped her arms around his neck and tipped his head down for a kiss.

They stayed that way for several minutes, swaying in the center of the room, making love with their mouths.

When she pulled away to gasp in a breath, he lifted her up, sucked at the spot where her neck met her shoulder. She locked her legs around his waist.

"Bao bei," he murmured. "Wuh de tyen, ah."

She wondered why he only spoke that way in Chinese. He never whispered his sweet nothings in English. One of the many mysteries that was Mal, she supposed. She played her fingers through his hair, pressed kisses against his temple, the sides of his face.

"I tried not to want this," he whispered. "Hell, I tried every which way I knew."

"It's okay to let yourself want, Mal." She traced her finger over his lips. "It just means you're alive."

"Am I that?"

The knock sounded before she could answer him.

"Mr. Parks? Wake-up call for the six AM horseback ride."

Mal groaned, lowered Inara to the floor, but didn't take his hands from her waist.

"Is he serious?" She stepped out of his grasp, unable to think clearly when he was touching her. "You're going horseback riding? With the councilor."

"Well, you're half right." Mal sat on the chaise, wondered how long the throbbing in his nethers would last. "It's sort of a couples thing."

Inara blinked at him. She opened her mouth, closed it again.

"A couples thing," she repeated dully.

"Come now, darlin'. You know Dev's the possessive sort. Don't 'spect he'd let his beautiful bride alone all morning."

Inara just stared for several seconds, then began rummaging through her suitcase for functional riding attire.

"You know, Mal, I'm starting to think Alicia's the frigid sort."

"Oh, hey, now." He looked pained. "That ain't right."

"Mm, you did make her a virgin, Mal." Inara let her dress slide off her shoulder and pool on the floor at her feet. She bent down to retrieve it, enjoying the way his eyes raked over her skin, burned for her. "I'm thinking the girl isn't very interested in sex."

He watched her step into a pair of tan pants, button them over her hips.

"Tyen shiao duh, Dev is so humped."

She gave a half shrug, smiled sweetly, and buttoned a cream-colored blouse over her lacy bra.

---

Oh, how did the man do it? An hour and a half on a horse, thumping and bumping over grass and rocks and Ye su knew what else. If she'd slept even a few hours, she might have handled it better. As it was she half-dozed in the saddle, watching Mal ride up near the councilor in an attempt at early-morning bonding and banter. She didn't know how he was coherent at this hour, let alone focused on the job. Of course, Inara had pulled more than the occasional all-nighter in her former profession. But after 'working' she always got to sleep. In fact, sleep tended to play a crucial role in the proceedings. She heard Mal tell the end of some bawdy joke, the other men laughing heartily. Sighing, she forced her eyes open, pulled her horse into a trot to catch up with Adda. The young woman didn't seem particularly thrilled with the daybreak ride either.

"Brisk this morning" Inara offered the sleepy-eyed girl a warm smile

"Alicia, hi." Adda leaned over to pet Inara's white mare. "I'm glad Dev convinced you to come. This place can be such a men's club."

"I can see that. Did you enjoy the party last night?"

"Oh, yes. It was very lovely. I did manage to lose my room key though--sometimes, I'm just so careless." Adda shrugged, lowered her voice to a whisper. "He says I'm young and irresponsible."

Inara felt guilt wash over her, curved her lips in a gentle smile.

"You had guests to see to. Being a good hostess was your first priority, one you performed admirably."

Adda smiled, grateful.

"A lot of people don't know...about us." She shrugged, her blond hair whipping around her head in the wind. "You see the councilor's a very important man. He talks a lot about propriety, decorum. But he promised he'll tell them...when the time is right."

"I'm sure he will," Inara said kindly. "And I'm sure he's busy, being such an important state's official. I understand a new business venture occupies much of his time these days."

"Yeah. I mean, yes," Adda corrected herself. She shrugged, clearly bored by the turn of topic. "He spends all his time down at the forty-fifth mile--that's where the scientists are. And when he isn't away at the lab, he's downstairs in his office."

"Oh?" Inara glanced at the manor, relieved to see it was coming into view again after the long ride. "I didn't realize the estate had a lower level."

"No one does," Adda said proudly. "He drew up the designs for this place himself, you know. You can only access the basement through an elevator in his bedroom." Adda sighed, pulled her horse to a stop and swung down, stretching her legs. "He keeps all the really dear pretties downstairs. For my birthday last year, he let me pick out a shiny bauble--anything my little heart desired." Adda pulled back her high-necked top to reveal a diamond choker.

"It's a lovely piece," Inara told her. She felt a hand on her leg, let Mal help her down from the horse with something akin to surprise.

"Come on, honey cake. Let's see if we can't get in a catnap 'fore the councilor's luncheon."

Upstairs, Mal nudged her across the threshold, ushering her toward the bed.

"Sit." He knelt to unlace her boots, rubbed briskly at her feet before swinging her legs up on the bed. "Go to sleep; you're exhausted."

"What about you? Mal, you must be tired."

"Don't worry your pretty little head over me." He pushed her back by the shoulders, grabbed the throw from the bottom of the bed and spread it over her. Before she could protest, he dropped a casual, almost brotherly kiss on the top of her head. "Sleep tight."

She watched him go, too weary to argue. He tried so hard to take care of them all. Who would take care of him? Inara fell into a fitful sleep.

When she opened her eyes, she was in the past, her back reclining on a bed of straw padding. Nique hovered above her, her green eyes approving.

"You have a magical way of appearing innocent and worldly all at once. That facility will do you well, my dear."

"Do you think I'm ready, Nique?"

"Patience, Inara," the elder woman chided. "Another month, maybe two. Then you'll be the best. Of all my girls, you've the greatest natural aptitude, the most potential."

Nique went to the window, watched the rain slant against the glass.

Inara sat up on the mat, buttoning her blouse. The lesson through, she removed a tube of lipstick from her purse, applied the crimson-gold color to her mouth. A companion must never look appear than perfection.

"I apologize for my enthusiasm. I suppose I'm just eager to begin. Sometimes I feel as though I've spent my entire life in training."

"A companion must be cool, unflappable in her calm."

"I understand." Inara watched the redhead turn away from the window. Her own makeup was mussed, but she didn't correct it. Nique sat beside Inara on the floor, stroked a hand over her dark curls.

"We've already had several inquiries regarding your availability. Of course, the choice is yours...but if you desire guidance."

Inara felt smooth-cut square fingernails against her cheek.

"You know I value your advice in all matters, Nique."

Dominique smiled, pleased.

"My brother is really quite taken with you, darling, ever since your meeting at that ball. He's a kind man, a little older of course, but that's not always a flaw. He has many contacts, wealthy and important associations that a new companion may find...invaluable."

"Mr. Trevor?" She was a few seconds late in covering her surprise, knew Nique would note the misstep, dock her points.

"Dewei finds you beguiling, as he should." She let her hand drift lower, running her fingers down Inara's throat. "I recommend you see him early. Make him one of your first clients."

"As always, Sister, I defer to your wisdom."

Nique's smile was radiant. She cupped Inara's face, kissed her lips hard enough to bruise. Inara blinked, unaccustomed to the spontaneous gesture from a woman usually so controlled.

"One day you'll be house priestess, I dare say. Come." Nique pulled Inara to her feet. "There's other work to be done this day."

Inara felt a hand shaking her shoulder.

"If my wife ain't the laziest in the 'verse. Wake up, Mrs. Parks. There's crime to be done."

Inara opened her eyes, saw Mal hovering above her.

"You were twitchin' before. Dreamin' about me, darlin'?"

Inara rolled her eyes pushed him away, sitting up.

"His office is downstairs. The only access is from a private elevator in the bedroom."

Mal widened his eyes in approval.

"Well, we'll check that out after dark. Get dressed and help me test these gadgets. Let's see what Lil' Kaylee rigged up."

---

She dressed all in black, from a pair of River's leggings to the black turtleneck sweater she'd picked up in town. Mal snorted when he saw her.

"What?" she asked huffily.

"Nothin'." He applied a patronizing pat to the top of her head. "If you ain't the cutest criminal accomplice I ever had."

She swatted his hand away.

"Let's just get this over with, shall we? I think I've experienced my quota on you these past two days."

"We ain't been married a week and already she's talkin' divorce." He took her hand, moved toward the door, all business now. "You stay behind me. If I say run, you run--no arguments."

She nodded, having learned by now that arguing with Mal was pointless. It was easier to acquiesce up front, do what she wished later.

"Kaylee's on Serenity, tryin' to hack into the system as we speak. But first we gotta get to that source box. I'm thinkin' there'll be a guard at the office, though likely just the one. You heard the councilor tout his own security system. This place is impregnable from the outside. Imagine he ain't too worried about internal safeguards."

"What about surveillance feeds?"

"Kaylee's gonna use a pinch to kill the power for a few seconds. After she'll clear the logs, should come up like a glitch in their systems. Hopefully we'll be long gone by then. Ready to be crooks, darlin'?"

"Are we that, Mal? Lately, I'm not sure."

"Yeah. Does seem to be an ambiguity past few months. I'm startin' to feel a mite confused my own self."

"Well, we wouldn't want that. After this is over, we'll find you a nice puppy to kick."

He shook his head, put on his hurt face.

"Always with the mouth, Nara."

At the councilor's door, Mal paused, dug Adda's key card from his trousers' pocket.

"Let's hope Blake's still gettin' sloshed on our fine Shadow wine."

He slid the card through the reader, waited till the light flashed green, tentatively turned the knob. Then he saw the figure on the bed, nearly jumped out of his skin. He relaxed, realizing it was just the girl, blond Adda Baxter, passed out from too much champagne. One of Blake's servants must have carried her upstairs, tossed her unceremoniously on the bed with her shoes still on her feet.

"Just your little girlie-friend," Mal whispered. He ushered Inara into the room and closed the door.

They found the elevator easily enjoy, hidden in the spare closet behind a rack of ladies' dresses. Mal pressed the down button, held out a hand for Inara to join him.

"This is too easy, Mal." She hugged her shoulders, shivering a little. "Why invite all these people into your home if you have a secret? Why take that risk?"

"Well, he does seem the pompous sort." Mal examined the walls of the elevator as they made their descent. "Still, he ain't privvy to our many exploits. Far as he knows, we're just a pair o' young lovers, harmless as new kittens."

"People in love are never harmless," Inara said quietly. But she let Mal push her behind him, wait gun in hand as the elevator doors opened.

A young man sat at a desk with his back to them, reading what looked like a dirty magazine.

"Evening, Mr. Blake," he said easily.

When he didn't receive a reply, his neck stiffened.

"Mr. Blake?"

Mal was on him before he could turn, applying a quick blow to the back of the kid's neck. He slumped soundlessly, and Mal lowered the sleeping boy gently to the desk.

"Nice digs," he said, noting the walnut paneling, the shiny high-tech appliances. He handed Inara his gun, motioned for her to stand guard near the elevator. He slipped a pair of 'coms from the pocket of his coat and turned one on, hoping for a signal down here.

"Kaylee? You read me?"

"Clear as day, Cap'n. 'Cept it's night now, ain't it? Hey, how's the party? You and Nara havin' fun? Ooh, tell me about the shiny desserts."

"Uh-huh. You in yet?"

"I'm in the system, but the login code's encrypted. Let me talk to Serenity, see what she can do."

Mal lowered the 'com, wandered over to the source box in the corner of the room. He jarred the screen, disrupting the screensaver. A login page appeared, requesting a user name and password. Well, they'd expected as much. He turned his attention to the pile of glossy white folders on the desk. Each was labeled with a pair of names, a male and a female. Inside were captures, a parchment page of neatly printed notes.

-Sampson, Addison and Lei. He is of high breeding, but weak. The girl is fetching, but an imbecile. No match.-

Having met the Sampsons at lunch, Mal tended to agree. He chose another folder.

-Chang, Dimitri and Olivia. Potential candidates. Investigate medical history before proceeding.-

Curiously, Mal sifted through the pile, found the folder labeled 'Parks, Devlin and Alicia.'

He read the notes under his own name. -Rude, boorish and uncultured. A hothead.- Mal glanced up, saw Inara was looking over his shoulder.

"Guess I didn't make the cut."

"I didn't realize we were auditioning."

"No, me either." He lifted a second capture. -Charming, cool-tempered and classy. Grace and virtue. Keep.- "Seems like you made quite the impression, darlin'."

He handed her the image. She glanced down at her own hologram. The capture had been taken at dinner. She hadn't noticed the recorder, her eyes laughing as Mal whispered something silly near her ear. They looked happy, uncommonly at ease. Inara turned the image over on the table.

"I don't understand. What's he doing?"

"Not rightly sure," Mal admitted, rifling through the other images.

"Mal." She touched his arm. "We don't exactly have foolproof covers. He could know."

"Don't think that's it." Mal pointed at their folder. "Ain't nothin' in here with our true names, nothin' mentions River or Miranda or Serenity, even. My gut's tellin' me this is something else, something...new."

"New." Inara shook her head, watched the captures play over his shoulder. "Mal, why are all the guests young couples? I think Trevor and--and his sister--are the only people over forty."

"Didn't Blake say somethin' 'bout us young family folk bein' Shadow's shiny future?"

"No," Inara said slowly. "He said children were the future."

Mal turned around, met her gaze.

"Did say that, didn't he." Mal glanced quickly at Blake's sourcebox, lifted the 'com to his mouth. "Kaylee? Serenity come up with anythin' yet?"

Her voice sounded muffled, far away.

"Nothin' so far, Cap'n. I'm sorry."

"You just keep tryin', Lil' Kaylee."

He checked his watch, sighed impatiently, and started flipping through the captures again.

Inara moved back to the sourcebox. The screen saver had clicked on, erasing the login page. She watched the cerulean font dance across the monitor.

Across the room, Mal turned to show her a picture, realized she'd wandered off.

"Hey." He came up behind her, followed the direction of her gaze. "Hey I know that logo. BSB. Where've I seen that before?"

"Everywhere, Mal. It's the Blue Sun logo."

"Tian de ma, you're right. BSB, though? What division is that?"

"It's the Blue Sun Brigade. A division of the Blue Sun Company concerned with the creation of a more morally-sound society."

Mal raised an eyebrow.

"You workin' for them now?"

"No, Mal. But my father did. Many years ago. One of their ventures failed, and a lot of people, including my father, lost everything."

"What kind of work they do, these morally-right folk?"

"I--I don't know. I was young..."

He squeezed her shoulder.

"You just keep thinkin' on it, see what comes to you." Mal lifted the 'com again. "Kaylee?"

"Ain't workin', Cap'n. I tried--"

"'Sokay, you did your best. We'll just find another way. Over and out." Mal stuffed the 'com in his pocket, grabbed Inara's arm. "We gotta run, darlin'. That guard's gonna wake up all kinds of irked."

He tugged her into the elevator and closed the doors.

---

"What was that about?" she asked when they were back in their room. "We had the time."

"I'm sorry, you the criminal mastermind now?" He was pacing, one hand raking through his hair.

"Blue Sun...Mal, why does that name scare you so much?"

"Let's just say I was unlucky enough to meet some of their employees during the War. Devoted workforce they got, specifically the armed forces division." He met Inara's eyes. "They made weapons for the Alliance, and not the nice kind that just kill a man."

Mal untucked his shirt and showed Inara the long white line, barely visible now, along his belly.

"Gift from some Blue Sun Workers."

Inara winced, turned away.

"My father wouldn't have...Blue Sun is a huge corporation, Mal. They manufacture soft drinks, children's toys."

"And implements of torture. And now I'm thinkin' they got a new project in the works."

"Those captures hardly qualify as hard evidence. We still have no idea as to the councilor's aims."

"No. But I'm guessin' your old friend Trevor might have a clue. I'm thinkin' we pay him a visit."

Inara hesitated, sat on the bed.

"That's not a good idea."

"Guy ain't no saint, takin' advantage of a little..." Mal trailed off, wisely deciding they didn't have time for this fight. "Still, man seems to care for you. I don't think he'd sell us out to Blake."

"It's not Trevor that worries me, Mal."

He knelt on the floor beside her, put a hand on her knee.

"Inara. Tell me what it is you ain't wantin' to tell me."

"The reason I left the Guild...shipped out with Serenity. I was running from something, Mal."

"I figured as much. Go on." He met her eyes, his own an appeal for trust.

"It's...complicated," she said helplessly. "I never did like complications."

"You and me both, darlin'. Those complications of yours...they still alive and kickin'?"

"She's here in this house, Mal. And I fear she'd sell us out soon as breathe."

---

Thirty worlds away, River forced everything out of her mind, concentrated on naught but the kill. Her body moved fluidly, her arms and legs as swift, as powerful as her name. She swung with her ax, saw the one attack from behind moments too late. Blood. Pain. Then Gideon was there, finishing it, lifting her in his arms.

"You're okay, River. I promise."

She let her head loll back against his shoulder. The pictures came too quickly now, flowing fast like a waterfall and impossible to stopper. The images fell into her head out of order--past, future, back to the present. Her head ached and she moaned softly.

They were back on The Champion when she came to. Gideon laid her out on the exam table, tilted her head back and pressed pills on her tongue.

"This will make the pain stop."

But it wouldn't; she knew better. Simon, I was wrong. I do still need you. River needs her big brother. She touched Gideon's face, his features mingling with Simon's, morphing back and forth and confusing her. Smiling at them both, she let sleep overtake her.

---


	7. Chapter 7

---

"It isn't funny."

"Uh, no, I wasn't laughin'."

"You have that look on your face."

"Which look is that?"

"I'm not sure. Something between bloody murder and psychotic laughter."

"Oh, I ain't like to bust a gut anytime soon. Might see fit to kill some folk. I'm thinkin' its a wait-and-see situation."

"I can't make you understand that world, Mal. It's...otherworldy, I guess."

"It is that. Gorrammit, Nara. My crew might not be the sanest bunch of travelers. But these loonies? I don't want you talkin' to that guy anymore. Not to mention crazy sis."

"Oh of course, Daddy. I won't see that boy again." She rolled her eyes. "I'm not a little girl, Mal. Neither am I your wife."

"Okay, let's make a note for you never to call me 'Daddy' again. And you pickin' up this ironical from the doc? Maybe 'haps you stay away from him too."

"Why don't you just lock me in a bunk?" she asked sweetly.

"I'm thinkin' I might just!" He lowered his voice, dragged in a calming breath. "Okay, let's go over this again, nice and slow."

She sighed, folding her legs beneath her on the bed.

"Mal..." She met his eyes helplessly. "I just...this is private. Personal."

"Yeah, I know." He sat beside her, feet planted firmly on the ground. "And you know I wouldn't push lest I had to."

She raised a brow.

"I never been one to meddle in the lives of my crew, Nara."

"Mal, you're constantly getting involved! You can't help yourself."

"Name one time!"

"Wash and Zoe. Simon and Kaylee. My 'whoring.' That time we--"

"I said one," Mal muttered disagreeably. "I know this ain't easy for you. But lest I understand the situation a mite better, your personal is like to become our premature deaths."

"I've told you everything, Mal."

"And yet I'm still in somethin' of a fog. Why would little sis push you into big brother's bed given her own feelings for you?"

"Servicing her brother was just a business arrangement, Mal. Companionship. Sex. Nique trained me herself, taught me to separate the physical and the emotional."

"Separate." He met her eyes. "Right. But our pal Dewei didn't get the memo."

"Trevor started to visit the Guild house more frequently. He contracted with me exclusively.

Mal nodded, wishing he were elsewhere. He didn't want to hear this any more'n she wanted to tell it.

"One night, after Trevor had gone, Nique came to my room. She knew I'd had a long day, offered to rub my shoulders to relax me."

Mal blinked, twitchy now and trying not to show it.

"That, uh, that a common enough occurrence at the Guild? Shoulder rubbing and the like?"

Inara rolled her eyes. There was a reason she rarely spoke about her Guild residency. That world was so very foreign to outsiders.

"Not all touching is sexual, Mal." She slid a hand around his neck, working her fingers over a knot. "Sometimes people can show one another kindnesses, small comforts."

"Huh." Her touch was hypnotic. He jerked his head away. "Let's get back to the story. I'm guessin' we're approaching a climax here."

Inara found herself reliving the moment. She'd untied the top of her dress, baring her back and shoulders. She could practically feel the hot oil on her skin, Nique's firm, probing fingers.

"At first, I didn't suspect anything was amiss. Dominique's quite skillful with massage; I was dozing when I heard her speak. She complimented me, praised the smoothness of my skin, the luster of my hair. She said a companion's life could be lonely, pale beneath all the glamor. She suggested that one should reach out and grasp warmth when it was offered."

Inara hesitated, lost in the remembering.

"And did you? Reach out and, uh, grasp it?"

She smiled, privately amused at his unease.

"I wasn't looking for personal entanglements, Mal. My first priority was to my career. The Guild was such a sizeable part of my life. For many years, it was my life."

"So you told her no thanks. And she flipped her lid."

"She accused me of meeting Trevor in secret, not recording our engagements in the client registry. You see, a portion of a companion's earnings is transferred directly to her House..."

"Coulda been quite the scandal."

"Perhaps, though Trevor would have denied it. Then she brought up the ball, the incident with Deacon Marshall. She threatened me...said she'd tell our house mistress what really happened that night if I contracted with her brother again."

"Real sweet lady. BOO hway-HUN duh PUO-foo..."

"I'd worked hard to put that night behind me, Mal. I had no aim to relive it. So I left, made excuses to my house mistress and stole off in the night. I knew it would only arouse questions if I emptied my accounts, questions I didn't want to answer. So I borrowed credits from Trevor, told him personal matters drew me away. I never told him of Nique's threats."

"How come you didn't? 'Haps he coulda talked some sense into her."

"She wasn't entirely wrong, Mal. I never saw Trevor secretly, but neither was our relationship wholly on the level."

"He was in love with you."

"Yes. And I...I was confused. I didn't love him the way he wanted. But I appreciated his kindnesses, all he'd done for me. I didn't want to hurt him." She met Mal's eyes, her own soft, youthful. "If I stayed, things would have been...messy."

"Those pesky complications again."

"At the time, leaving seemed the only reasonable solution."

"You gave up a whole hell of a lot for those folk. Fancy digs and a home don't float away on ya."

"It's strange." She looked away. "Strange how people alter your life's course in ways they never intended."

Mal cleared his throat.

"Yeah, that's a strangeness. And now we got ourselves something of a situation here."

"Mal." She touched his arm. "What do you think Blake's little science project entails?"

Mal sighed, rubbed at his temples.

"Not rightly sure. Won't know for certain till we get a look at those files."

"But you have an idea."

"I do. But I'm hopin' it ain't bad as all that."

"This isn't some shiny meet and greet, is it? He's conducting his research this very weekend."

"Inara." He reached for her but she shook her head.

"I'm fine, Mal." She turned away. "You don't have to shelter me."

"No...I know I don't."

"Just because a psychopath wants to include us in some breeding experiment--"

"Actually, think my stock's been rejected outta hand. And if I had to guess, I'd say no breeding takes place, least not the old fashioned kind. Folks prolly wake up in the hospital with parts missing. Doc says they was in an accident but it's shiny now. Send 'em on their merry ways none the wiser."

"For what purpose? What exactly are they trying to create?"

"Something new. Something better." His voice dripped bitterness. "It's their way."

"What now?" she asked quietly.

"Now...now we talk to your friend. And hope like hell he is that."

"If Blake sees you with Trevor...he could start to suspect something, Mal."

"Yeah, you may have a point. Well, we'll just throw him a curve ball then. How are you at scenes, Missus Parks?"

---

Mal slipped into the game room, closing the door behind him. Smoke billowed high and the scent of brandy stung the air. Cards shuffled quickly through nimble fingers; poker chips exchanged hands. No women to speak of--it seemed Blake was a sexist psychopath. Mal stood in the center of the room, affected a drunken sway.

"Okay. Which one of you is a Dewei Trevor?" he shouted over the hiss of conversation.

For a moment fifty- some-odd men sat in silence. The councilor pushed back his chair, made a move to stand. But Trevor beat him to it, lay down his hand of cards and rose.

"I am Dewei Trevor, Sir."

"Are ya now?" Mal strode across the room. "Hiya, Trevor." He slammed a closed fist into the older man's face.

"Mr. Parks!" The councilor snapped his fingers at two waiters who quickly restrained Mal's arms. Another went to assist Trevor, who was doubled over. "Have you gone mad, boy?"

"Oh, I'm plenty mad. Mad at the SOB who slept with my new bride!"

Cue Inara. Mal bit back a grin; girl was born to play this role. He stretched out his knuckles, wincing at the pain.

"Dev!" She came into the room running, pink nightgown dancing around her thighs, hair loose and flowing. She'd even streaked eye paint on her cheeks--girl was nothing if not thorough. "Devlin, you're overreacting. I told you nothing happened, we were just talking!"

"Talking? Councilor, you think its acceptable for a man to talk at another man's wife in a private room withouts any chaperone to speak of? Tah-shr SUO-yo DEE-yure duh biao-tze duh MAH, on our gorram honeymoon, Alicia!"

"For Heaven's sake, Dev. You're making a scene!" She tried to grab hold of his arm but he whipped it away.

"Prolly best you don't touch me now, darlin'."

"Mr. Parks." Trevor took a step toward him. "I can assure you that what your wife says is true. Nothing unseemly occurred between us."

"Oh, you can assure me of that? Ta ma de hwoon dan--"

"Dewei, Mr. Parks." The councilman lowered his voice to a death whisper, grabbed both men and escorted them out into the hallway. "This behavior is absolutely unacceptable in my home. I trust you to resolve this matter in a civilized manner befitting of gentlemen. If you wish to duel, one of my servants will provide you with swords. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have guests."

He brushed past Inara, closing the game room door firmly behind him.

"Yeah, we'll just get started with the cuttin' on each other," Mal muttered when he was gone. "That's what civilized folk do, ain't it? Ai ya, my hand hurts."

"That's because you hit me, you rutting madman! In-Alicia. What in the name of Buddah is going--"

"Mal, you didn't have to hit him," she chided. "Trevor, I apologize."

Mal shrugged.

"Seemed like the thing to do."

"I think some explanations are in order."

"Yeah, gonna have to agree with you there, Trev." Mal started toward the door. "Let's take a walk, shall we?"

---

"Malcom Reynolds." Trevor unfolded a handkerchief from his shirt pocket, dabbed at his lip. "Your reputation precedes you."

"You hear that, darlin'?" He nudged Inara, who sat beside him on the lawn, several meters away from the front door. "I'm a celebrity. That makes you a celebrity by marriage, don't it?"

"Mal and I aren't married," Inara explained cooly.

"Nope, little lady won't make an honest man of me," Mal admitted. "So what exactly is it you heard? Don't imagine you and I run in the same social circles, Trev."

"I've heard Malcom Reynolds is a renegade. First class troublemaker."

"Hey." He elbowed Inara again. "What's a renegade?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Trevor, I'm sorry to involve you in all this."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry 'bout your face." Mal grinned. "Almost really. But way I see it, you're either a party to Blake's little experiment or a damn sha gua dupe like the rest of us. Inara thinks you're a decent sorta man, and I'm trusting her judgment. Am I right?"

Trevor sighed, eyed Inara with something akin to regret.

"I didn't know, not really. He said they were playing around with DNA, trying to guard against genetic diseases, abnormalities. I admit I'm no man of science. But it seemed noble, a righteous cause." Trevor's face changed, his eyes snapping with indignation. "How do you know that isn't so? Perhaps those captures meant something else entirely!"

"Yeah." Mal nodded sardonically. " 'Haps he's takin' up scrapbooking. That what lonely old men do, Trev?"

"Mal!" Inara glared.

"I attended university with Blake, Mr. Reynolds. I've known him since you were but a child."

"Then he should be plenty cooperative to an pal. Tell him you want to invest more money but you need details. Get me a copy of his files. If I'm wrong-- well, I'll feel mighy bad for hittin' ya so hard."

Trevor stood, brushing grass from his trousers.

"I'll do as you wish, Mr. Reynolds." He turned his eyes on Inara. "You disappoint me, my dear. I would have given you everything. You deserve more than a petty criminal like him."

Trevor strode across the lawn, leaving them alone with the moonlight. Inara rose slowly, let Mal lead her back to the house. Neither saw the pair of cool, emerald eyes watching intently from the windows.

---

Blake's men intercepted them on the way upstairs.

"If you'll come with us, Mr. Parks."

Mal met the eyes of the man clutching his forearm. Remote eyes with humor glinting just below the surface. Oh, this was about to become all manner of unpleasant. Mal turned to Inara.

"Wait for me upstairs," he commanded, his tone soft yet firm enough to leave no room for debate.

"Where are you taking him?" she demanded, trying to grab Mal's arm.

"Don't worry yourself into a frenzy, Missus Parks. Just go on up to the room like your husband says, and we'll have him back shortly."

Inara met Mal's eyes, her own fearful. He shook his head slowly, and she took a step back.

"Good girl," he murmured approvingly.

Once upstairs, Inara dressed hurriedly, tried to make herself wait like he'd asked. She sat on the bed, worked to slow her breathing. Did they know? Oh, go suh, if the councilor had learned their true identities, they were humped. The name Malcom Reynolds had many associations, most of which added up to a single word: trouble. To hell with the captain and his orders; she was going after him. Her fingers were curving around the knob when a knock sounded from the other side. Two brisk raps, then the handle was turning in her hands.

Two men half dragged Mal inside, deposited him unceremoniously in Inara's arms.

"I suggest you pack quickly, Mr. Parks," the larger one said. They closed the door, leaving Mal and Inara alone.

"Hey, honey." A smile twisted over his split lips. "Miss me?"

She sighed. His right eye was blackened. Through the tears in his shirt, she could see angry red bruises rising on his chest.

"Oh, Mal," she said softly. "Did they say anything?"

"Oh, somethin' bout actin' civilized in the councilor's home. Meaning was kinda lost amidst all that punching." Mal winced, let Inara help him on to the bed. "Seems they want us to take our leave and fast."

"He called you Parks." She unbuttoned his tattered shirt, ran a gentle hand over his bruised torso. "I don't think our cover's blown."

"No, though my kidneys might be." He groaned, shifting on the bed.

"Mal." She shook her head, eyes full of sympathy. "Life with you is never dull, that's a certainty."

"Ain't that why you like me?"

"Mm, is that why?" She let him curve a hand around her cheek, draw her face down for a soft kiss. His lips tasted of blood, but she barely noticed.

---

She dipped a cloth in cool water, began to cleanse the blood from his chest while he dozed. She'd packed their bags and paid one of the butlers to bring round their automobile. But Mal insisted they give Trevor more time.

"I want those files, Inara."

"Mal, they'll kill you next time."

"You trust him, Nara?"

She met his eyes.

"Yes. I trust him."

"Then give the man thirty more minutes."

The knock sounded after fifteen. Inara opened the door, but Trevor walked past her as though she were invisible, moved toward the bed.

"Mr. Reynolds."

He pressed a narrow slip of metal into Mal's hand. His face was ashen, his shoulders drooping. Suddenly he looked his age, Inara realized.

"My portable drive. Some of the files on there are of a personal nature; perhaps you could send it back to me when you're through."

"Trevor..." Inara tried to catch the man's weary gaze. "Is it...is it what we thought?"

"All those babies..." He lowered himself to the chaise, ran his fingers through his hair. "There's vid, both inside the labs and here at the manor. You can see for yourselves."

"How'd you do it?" Mal asked. Grimacing, he sat up, stuck his arms back in his sleeves and tugged the suspenders in place.

"Money." Trevor shrugged, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Platinum is a language Blake always understand. Even at university he had a taste for the finer things in life. Still, I never thought..." His voice trailed off. "I expressed an interest in investing more, said I required additional details about the project, specifics. I had to know where my money was going. You know, I think he genuinely believes this is just."

"What are they doing?" Mal asked quietly.

"Genetic engineering." Trevor wrung his hands in his lap "Some of it is medical, developing exceptionally-healthy fetuses, children who'll never get ill. But its more than that. They're seeking out certain traits. Breeding a sinewy man and obedient woman to spawn the perfect soldier. Mingling genes for intelligence with cool headedness in an attempt to create good leaders. There are over fifty children in their little 'school', many of them hardly more than babies..."

"What about the parents?" Inara asked, disbelieving. "What kind of people would willingly give over their children?"

"Mamas and Daddys are none the wiser, ain't that right, Trev? Blake's men take what they need, spawn babes in petri dishes like little science experiments."

"Yes," he admitted. "And surrogates carry them to term. Young girls who could use the coin."

"Ren si de fo zu," Inara murmured. "Dear God."

"What will you do, Mr. Reynolds?" Trevor asked.

"Pass the information on to thems that asked for it. But first I'm getting me and mine the hell off this rock. "

Trevor nodded, eyes on Inara.

"I think that's wise."

--

So near the end now; just a few more meters and they'd be at the door. Inara never imagined she'd be eager to get back in that car. Her dread of Blue Sun must have supplanted fear of dying in some fiery car wreck.

She jumped when Mal grabbed her wrist and hauled her behind him. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a woman watching from the stairs. A perfect hour glass figure with long strawberry-blond tresses. The woman took a step out from the shadows.

"Nique," Inara whispered, eyes widening, just as two men appeared from the salon. They wore expensive suits, carried briefcases. One pulled a pair of blue gloves from his pocket, snapped them over his fingers.

"Malcom Reynolds," the other said slowly. "We've been looking for you."

Mal shoved Inara at Trevor and darted to the side. He reached for his holster, remembering a second too late that Blake's men took his gun. He watched a turquoise finger curl around the trigger, felt a searing pain in his side. He didn't have time to speak, just fell back against the wall.

"Mal!"

The blue-fingered man raised the gun again but Trevor shouted a command in Mandarin, cloaking the hall in darkness.

Trevor pushed them both to the side, grasped blindly where he knew a doorknob to be. He ushered Mal and Inara into the small anteroom, locking the door behind them.

"Gun in my boot," Mal managed. "Help me--"

Trevor slid the spare weapon from Mal's shoe, tucked it in his own waistband. He gestured to the window.

"You can get out that way. I'll try to hold them." He met Mal's eyes. "Keep her safe."

"Trevor," Inara murmured

He touched her face, spreading Mal's blood on her pale cheek.

"Inara. So very exquisite. I love you, mei mei. I have for so many years."

Inara half dragged Mal toward the open window. They climbed through, landing in the shrubbery. She began leading him toward the car.

"Two by two. Blue hands." Mal groaned. "Wo de ma, River..."

"Mal!" Inara's voice shook. "Mal, stay with me."

They reached the car. She hoisted him up against the side, trying to get the back door open.

"Guess you're gettin' that driving lesson after all, darlin'." He half climbed, half fell onto the back seat.

Inara slid behind the wheel, took a deep breath.

"I hope you're a good teacher, Mal. Mal?" She inserted the key in the proper spot, cringed as the engine choked, roared to life. "Mal, stay with me."

"Not goin' nowhere," he said agreeably.

"If I can pilot a shuttle, I can drive a car," Inara reasoned. "Any sha gua can. I just press this pedal here, and--nothing! Why aren't we moving?"

"Gear," he muttered, teeth set against the pain.

"Right. Gear." She slid the pointer from P to D, hoping D stood for drive.

"Here we go--tzao gao." The car jumped forward. Inara locked her hands on the wheel, trying to hold it steady.

Mal rolled his head back, attempted to see out the back window. Best he could tell they weren't being followed. Yet.

"Darlin? You might wanna give her some gas."

"Aren't we going fast?" she asked shortly.

"Well." Mal eyed the slowly-passing landscape. "This rate, should make it back before the winter sols--ohh!" He moaned as a new wave of pain hit him.

"Mal!" She whipped her head around, the car swerving right.

"I'm okay, you just focus on the drivin'. You're doin' good. Really." He bit back another groan. "You'll see, we'll be back on Serenity in no time flat. No time at--" Mal stopped. The bastard shot him called him by name first. Lao tyen yeh, they knew. Which meant...

"Carly."

"Mal?" Inara glanced over her shoulder. "What is it?"

He dug the 'com out of his pocket, cringing as fire ripped through his belly.

"Jayne! Ai ya, answer me, Jayne!"

"I'm here, Cap. What is it?"

"They know. Get Caroline outta that house. Hear me? You get her outta that house, Jayne!"

"Rutting hell. I'm goin', Mal. Where should I--?"

"Get everybody on Serenity. Inara has the rendezvous coordinates. Once we're all aboard, you fly us the hell off this rock, hear? I...I think I'm goin' to sleep now." The 'com slid wetly from his fingers, fell dead on the seat.

---

Kaylee helped Jayne ready the mule. Simon paced the cargo bay, edgier than was usual.

"Gorrammit, Kaylee. Quit fiddlin' down there," Jayne muttered.

"Okay!" She rolled out. "Mule's ready."

Simon put a hand on Jayne's shoulder, stopping him. Jayne glanced down, raised a brow.

"Lest you want me to bite that hand off, Doc..."

"I should go with you."

"Simon," Kaylee murmured.

"You might need help."

Jayne snickered.

"Or someone could require medical attention," Simon pressed.

"No offense, Doc, but that someone's gonna be you if you hold me up any longer. Help the womenfolk prep the boat. Mal wants us in the air soon as I'm back."

Jayne propelled them out of the cargo bay, sped over the green Shadow landscape. He recognized the winding drive that led to Caroline's farm as he was sailing past it, swung around widely and applied the gas. He could smell the smoke now, see glints of orange and black through the trees.

He swore ripely in Mandarin, eyes on the pile of wreckage that had been a house.

"Aw, ruttin' son of a--"

He didn't see the big old oak till it was too late. The mule hit the trunk with a stomach-turning thud, and Jayne flew through the air. Then everything went white.

---

Jayne woke on a groan, felt every part of his body ache in protest. His first thought was: Hell, maybe I shoulda brought the gorramn doc. He gave a slight guffaw at his own good humor-mistake. His ribs hurt too ruttin' much for jokes, even at the doctor's expense. It took him a few minutes to realize his head lay on something soft, not entirely unfamiliar. Slowly, dubiously, he peeled open his eyes. His vision was blurry, his brain all manner of concussed. He saw a swing of dark hair, felt smooth white hands press against his forehead, holding him still.

"River?" He blinked rapidly. "That you, girl?"

A hesitation, the voice firm when it finally said:

"Jayne, it's Caroline."

Jayne felt something twist inside him, tried to move his head around to see her.

"Caroline? You ain't dead?"

"It would seem not," she said dryly. "I saw them coming, hid in the woods."

"Well, uh, you did good, girl." Jayne raised his head off her lap, took a few deep breath and hoped fervently not to puke. "Mal gave orders to take you on ship."

He stood, clutching a tree for support.

"Seems to think you ain't safe here no more," he commented, watching the remains of the farmhouse smolder against the darkening sky.

Caroline nodded slowly.

"I've a rider in the east barn. They didn't burn it."

She stood, brushing ash and dirt from her hands, eyed her scorched land with resolve.

There'd be time enough for tears later.

---

He was back in the infirmary. Tyen shiao duh, they'd been lucky. Blue Sun. Wo de ma. He turned to see Kaylee watching him intently from the window.

"Good, you're awake. Cap'n, did you really tell Jayne to fly Serenity outta here?" Kaylee hesitated, patted his head. "Glad you're feelin' better, by the way. But did you?"

"Fast as her wings could flap," Mal admitted.

"But...the vid, Cap'n. All those people's just bein' used back there...all the babies..." Kaylee shook her head sorrowfully.

"We ain't the gorramn cavalry this trip. Strictly recon, in and out, and now that we're out we surely ain't goin' back. We'll show the truth to them that hired us. Up to those folk to use it as they sees fit."

"Mal, you know those people don't have the resources to launch a military attack."

Mal glanced around Kaylee to Inara, who stood in the doorway.

"You think we got those resources, Nara? Last I checked, my boat weren't no warship."

"She's got a point, Sir." Zoe approached the table, Raven on her shoulder. "Don't feel right, us just leavin' 'em."

"No, that it don't, Zoe." He met her eyes cooly, recalling a punch to the jaw. "And if any of you got an idea don't end with us bein' all sorts of dead, I'm willin' to hear it."

"You're not wrong 'bout us bein' ill-equipped, Sir."

"Then why we havin' this talk?"

"I'm sorry, Sir. Thought you had a mind to help those couldn't speak for themselves." She stroked a hand down the baby's back.

"That I do," Mal said quietly, his voice rough. "And just who's gonna take care of Little Chick once you and me get our heads blown off back on Shadow?"

"Mal," Inara reproved, glancing at Zoe.

"Don't much like what's goin' on back there, though can't say I'm surprised overmuch. Meddling is the Alliance's way. But sad as I am for those babies, they ain't my priority." He met Zoe's eyes, lowered his gaze to the child sleeping in her arms. "Made a promise to someone awhile back, and I do intend to keep it." None of them had ever known trouble like Blue Sun. Mal hoped to hell they never would.

"Everyone." Simon appeared in the doorway, eyes taking in the scene. "The captain needs his rest now."

"Think the doc might be right on that account." Mal lay back on the table, closing his eyes so as not to see the disappointment in Kaylee's as she backed out of the room. He didn't protest as the doctor shot his veins full of something that made him drowsy. He welcomed sleep just now.

---

Kaylee left Simon to do his doctorin', wandered upstairs. Wasn't fair, everyone bein' on edge this way. She wanted this to be a happy day, wanted to tell everyone the news. Now all she could think of was little babies bein' born without their mamas and the poor captain, bleeding downstairs on the table. Wasn't right the way she layed into him. None o' this was his doing. He didn't start the wars, just wound up stuck in the crossfire.

"Oh, hello," she said, spotting Caroline at the kitchen table. "You findin' everything okay, honey?"

"It's a big ship," Caroline admitted, wrapping her hands around a mug of tea. "I fear I'll be lost the first couple weeks. It's strange, thinking Malcom's spent so much time on Serenity, and I never seen her before this morning. How is he?"

"Cap'n? He's gonna be shiny." Kaylee frowned, guilt flooding her face. "He's still hurtin' some, but Simon's fixed him up good."

"How many times do you reckon my brother's been shot?" Caroline mused, looking into her tea cup.

"More than a couple," Kaylee admitted. "Cap'n's got a way of swimmin' against the current, ain't always good for makin' friends."

"He doesn't want me here." She met the younger woman's eyes, feeling painfully truthsome. "This ship symbolizes freedom for him. He doesn't want pieces of his past mucking that up by walking its halls."

"Oh, hey, now. Sure that ain't so." Kaylee patted Caroline's hand. "Just 'cuz Cap'n don't say stuff don't mean he ain't feelin' it, if that makes any sense."

"The crew--everyone--seems tense, troubled. Is it because of me?"

Kaylee smiled widely.

"Aw, honey. These people are always tense. Cap and Zoe--hell they could be tense in a bubble bath, not that the cap'n'd ever consent to takin' a bubble bath. And Simon--well, he tends to worry more than's good for any human person. Jayne--hell, Jayne prolly sleeps with his guns. And poor Inara, she'd be fine if the cap'n would just..." Kaylee trailed off, smiling sheepishly. "That's just the way they are, honey. Don't got nothin' to do with you bein' crew now."

She squeezed Caroline's hand reassuringly. Caroline nodded, her mind trying to wrap itself around such a large quantity of information spouted off in such a short time.

"Kaylee?" she said finally, her eyes on the younger woman's hand.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"Is that a wedding ring?"

---

He sensed her watching him, blinked his eyes open. She stood posed in the doorway, wearing gray gym shorts and one of River's flowy tops. He nearly grinned.

"You come to tell me off too?"

She smiled.

"Not today."

"That's somethin'. You able to wave Trevor yet?"

"He got away. Nique's dead."

Mal raised a brow.

"He killed one of the blue-handed men. The other tried to shoot him. Dominique jumped in front of the bullet." Inara lowered her gaze. "She's the one who sold us out, Mal. She told Blake who I am. Who I was. It didn't take him long to run a background check, make the connection back to Serenity. To you."

"None of this is your fault, Inara." He tilted her chin so she'd meet his eyes. "Hey. I'm the captain, and what I say goes. You didn't cause this, you hear?"

"So much suffering," she said softly. "So many deaths."

"At least today they ain't ours. They'll come at us again. BSB."

"I know," she said softly.

Mal sighed.

"Think Kaylee'll ever forgive me for not going back?"

"Love precludes grudges, Mal. Not that that girl's capable of holding a grudge."

"No, don't 'spect she is."

Inara spread a hand over Mal's side, careful not to touch the area beneath the bandage.

"Why is it scars make men more attractive instead of less?" she mused.

"You, uh, you think I'm attractive?"

She smiled.

"You have your moments."

He caught her hand.

"How long you and me gonna keep dancin', Inara?"

"I don't think you're up to dancing, Mal." She smiled, attempted to withdraw her hand. "You should try to sleep."

"Ain't feelin' particularly sleepy, just now." He held on to her wrist.

"Simon says you need your rest."

"Rest?" He snorted a laugh. "Ai ya, it's like goin' to bed with a gorram ghost every night. Surely ain't no rest in that."

"Whose ghost, Mal?" She held her breath. "Mine?"

"Not just yours. Ours." He sighed. "I know I ain't the easiest man in the 'verse, Nara."

"Mal--"

"Let me speak. I know I can be a stubborn hwoon dan when I set my mind to it."

She waited.

"Well, that's it, I guess."

Inara smiled.

"You do have a way of shutting people out, Mal. You're complicated and complex. You can be ornery and irritating and downright infuriating--"

" 'Haps you should stop singin' my praises now, Nara. I'm blushing here."

"But. You can also be kind, caring. I've seen you show great compassion."

He was fidgeting on the table, more comfortable with the insults.

"I'm a broken old man, Inara."

"Not broken." She smiled sadly. "Just battered. And age is a state of mind."

"Place me and my mind is at...you might not wanna put too much effort into pullin' me out." He stroked a finger down her throat. "Might be beyond even your immense talents of persuasion."

"You aren't so far gone as you think, Mal. And I have many, many talents."

"Is that so? Hearin' a lotta talk over there. Maybe you should put your mouth where your...mouth...is..."

"Was that supposed to make sense?" she asked innocently.

"I'm tryin' to bare my soul here, and she's gotta start mouthin' off. How do you like-"

"Bi zui." She shifted over him on the table. "Kiss me, Mal."

He opened his mouth against hers, for once not caring who might be watching.

---

Mal slept in the infirmary, awoke to the unpleasant sensation of Simon unzipping his trousers.

"Doc?" He blinked against the harsh white lights. "Mind tellin' me what you're doin' down there?"

"Sorry." Simon murmured, peeling back the bandage that extended beneath Mal's waistband. "Just checking the wound. It's healing nicely."

"Good. Then you can never, ever touch me there again." Mal pushed himself to a sitting position, swung his legs over the table. "My cleared for take off?"

"Well, I'd recommend another day's rest." He sighed, realizing Mal had no intention of staying grounded. "Just try not to lift anything. Or...move...a whole lot."

"I'll take that under advisement, Doc." Mal buttoned up his shirt, strode over to the sink to wash the taste of blood from his mouth. "Come on, son. I'll buy you breakfast."

Mal wandered into the kitchen, one hand supporting his side. Simon followed, eyeing Mal as though he half expected him to fall on his face. Zoe was already up, trying to interest Raven in a water bottle. Jayne sat across from them, distracting the baby with all manner of bun faces. His jaw went slack when Mal approached.

"Hey, Cap'n. How you feelin'?"

"Doc tried to molest me in my sleep," he muttered by way of response.

"I was examining him," Simon protested, rolling his eyes.

Mal limped over to Zoe, clapped a hand on her shoulder that they both knew meant she was forgiven. He reached past to smooth Raven's hair.

"Think the Little Chick's grown past few days." He took a seat beside them, wincing as the movement jarred his wound.

Jayne cleared his throat.

"Uh, Mal."

"Uh, Jayne."

"Mal, you and I always been up front with each other."

Mal blinked at him.

"We always been up front," he repeated.

"That's what I said," Jayne said, a little forcefully.

"Oh, I was just checkin'." He leaned over to his first mate. "Zoe, you figure he's plannin' on shooting me?"

"So I'm just gonna come right out and say this," Jayne said loudly.

Simon suddenly realized where the big merc was going with this. He had a very clear image of himself removing bullets and applying weaves for the next eight hours. Not exactly how he'd envisioned his honeymoon.

"Jayne, perhaps now isn't the best--"

"Mal, I sexed your sister. There it is."

For a moment no one spoke. Mal opened his mouth, closed it again. His fingers were itching for his gun. Before anyone could make a move, Inara stormed into the room, Kaylee close on her heels.

"Nara, please. Don't be mad."

"I'm not angry, Kaylee. Truly, I'm happy for you. I am." Her lower lip trembled.

Kaylee raised an eyebrow.

"Don't look happy," she ventured.

"Oh, but I'm thrilled, mei mei. I wish you fifty golden years and hundreds of fat children."

"Okay, wait just a gorramn minute." Mal sat up straighter, pounded a fist on the table. "Someone better tell me just what in the nine hells is goin' on 'round here. You--you don't speak," he said, turning murderous eyes on Jayne.

The girls ignored him.

"Nara, sweetie, I'm sorry! I wanted you there standin' up with me. It just--it all happened so fast," she said helplessly. "Tell her, Simon."

Mal turned to glare at Simon, who edged pointedly away.

"Well, I, um. It was sudden," he admitted.

"Kaylee, I am happy for you. I just wish you'd waited." Inara reached out a hand, stroked it over Kaylee's unruly waves. "I wanted to help style your hair, pick out a pretty gown."

"Inara." Kaylee rolled her eyes affectionately. "You did pick out my dress."

Inara blinked, smiled.

"I--I'd forgotten." She laughed, wrapped Kayee in an embrace, kissing her cheeks. "I'm sure it was a beautiful wedding, mei mei."

"Kaylee." Mal's voice was low, furious. "Did you go off and do somethin' I'm gonna have to kill Simon for?"

"Thought you were killin' Jayne, Sir," Zoe said helpfully.

"Captain, can you kill me first? I'd rather not spend all morning stitching you up after you reopen your wound murdering Jayne."

"Simon," Kaylee chided. "Nobody's gettin' shot."

She approached Mal, bent daringly to kiss his cheek. The others took a collective breath.

"Not that me and Simon didn't want you there, Cap'n. We did. 'Cept it was all kinda spur of the moment. Just real sudden and...romantic." She hesitated. "Aren't you gonna say nothin', Cap'n?"

Mal looked at Kaylee, watching him all wide-eyed. His whole crew looked like someone was 'bout to get their head shot off.

Mal started to laugh. He couldn't help himself, couldn't stop. He bent forward, rested his head on the table as his whole body shook with it. He laughed until he thought his side would split open, until the others were exchanging awkward glances. Captain's gone crazy, they must be thinkin'. Finally lost his marbles. When he at last caught his breath, there were tears at the corners of his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand and stood, pushing in his chair. No one said a word, just let him limp across the room. Mal paused in the doorway, turned back to find five sets of eyes on him.

"You know, Doc. I'm really startin' to miss the little albatross. Looks like she was the sane one in this bunch."

He started toward his room, still grinning to himself.

---


	8. Chapter 8

---

Malcom Reynolds was not having his best day ever. The weather forecast was three more days of darkness, and the dinner menu promised protein in shiny variety. It seemed a day for sulking. Not sulking: brooding. Brooding sounded manlier, right?

Mal shoved the last tub of clothes in the laundry tank, pounding it down to fit. Almost two dozen towels; wo de ma, how much showering could a body take? He blamed Kaylee and that kuh-ooh duh doctor who was not his favorite person on a good day, and this was surely not a good day. Every time he turned around, the pair of 'em was turnin' up with wet hair and red faces. He'd tried posting a No-Sex-In-The-Showers sign back when Wash and Zoe started defiling them. Made a neat little plaque and everything. And he probably still had the scar where Zoe beat him over the head with it.

Not for the first time, Mal wished their old friend Book was alive. Crew could use a good 'sin and hellfire' sermon nowabouts. Wasn't right draggin' a man's mechanic off to the alter that way. Doc didn't ask permission. Hell, didn't even take captures. Had to be a commandment against that. Right after the one 'bout coveting thy captain's sister. He knew what Kaylee would say if he complained. You wouldn't be so grumpy if you got a little o' that tension out, Cap'n. Mayhaps that was so. Presently, it looked like all his tension was stayin' put, lest he took matters into his own hands. Inara had chosen this week as the time to go all skittish again, avoiding him somethin' fierce. Just yesterday, he tried to kiss her goodnight. He was even all proper about it, knocking on her door and waiting till she said he could enter. She seemed sorta stunned, which was prolly his fault for never doin' anything like it before.

"You want a kiss?" She looked suspicious. "That's all?"

"A gorramn goodnight kiss--that too much to ask?"

"I--alright."

"You gonna stand up?" he asked sulkily.

She did, but by then the mood was kinda shot. He kissed her quickly, a chaste lip brush that satisfied neither, and made an excuse about checking the trajectory or some such. He scurried up the ladder, embarrassed. Girl made the kind of sense that wasn't. Had to be a commandment 'gainst teasing a man senseless, luring him in with wiles and then playing it cool when he was fit to burst at the seams. Still, if he was feelin' truthsome, he'd have to admit she wasn't the only one actin' strangely. They both knew this time was different. He wondered whether they should have a date.

---

He had a wife. He, Simon Tam, who'd turned twenty-five his last birthday, had a wife, true and actual: a living, breathing space-mechanic wife. Once upon a time, he'd had parents, a sister, a swelling bank account and a fat file of recommendations from the medical elect. But inexplicable men came from the darkness, stole away his sister--his beautiful, brainy sister--and suddenly none of the rest mattered a damn. So he made a choice, except, no, there hadn't been a choice. And suddenly he had no parents, no money, no promising future in medicine. But he had River back. Still spectacularly brainy, still achingly beautiful, but broken, altered forever from the way she was. But she was with him at least, real and tangible, able to laugh and breathe and tease. They hid in the Black, hid from the darkness. But the darkness came calling, snatched River away. And yet, something had changed. Simon had changed, because now he had Kaylee; somehow, incredibly, he had Kaylee.

Was there some curious cosmic balance at play? Was Simon allowed his share of the bounty, no more? Who, he wondered, was responsible for doling out happiness? He wandered Serenity, traveling the familiar catwalks where River played, padded shoeless despite the captain's repeated warnings about sharp bits and pretty little feet.

"You step on a nail, I'm just gonna laugh," he promised. River had smiled, waiting, knowing before Mal did what he would do. She seemed pleased, almost smug, when he rolled his eyes, hauled her up over his shoulder and carried her, giggling, into the kitchen. He tossed her down on the sofa, turned to Simon, who sat at the table.

"Buy your sis some gorramn boots," he muttered before strolling off.

River had been happy here, content. How was this still home without her? But he knew why.

He could hear her humming as he approached the shuttle. He couldn't place the tune but knew it was an ancient one, nostalgic as an old lover's scent, warmly, pleasantly familiar. You knew where and whom you were when last you heard it.

He lingered in the doorway, watching her fiddle with the control panel. She stood on tip toe, heels arching up, back stretched over the console. Wode, Simon thought. Xia tian hua. In that instant, watching her body curve--just blood and bone and flesh, but together...Kaylee--Simon would have traded anything and everything for her. Was that wrong? If Serenity was River's savior--home?--then Kaylee was Simon's. But could he keep her, grab hold and make her stick? He wondered whether her smiles would stay put, her throaty little moans, the almost childlike pleasure of discovering each other: greedy lips and fingers, giving and grasping in the darkness. Did they secretly revel in the captain's teasing, his only half-affected frowns of disapproval? He treated them as one would naughty children, teenagers playing at being adults. And yet wasn't that part of the fun? Foibles of the flesh. Shakespeare, most ancient of ancients. Romeo and Juliet. "Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged/ Give me my sin again." Was sin and the promise of punishment the greatest aphrodisiac of all? Dear God, he sounded like Jayne. And surely there was nothing sinful in this. Pleasure. Joining. He and Kaylee, made one.

He approached her quietly from behind, curled an arm around her middle. She jumped, relaxed when she recognized his touch, the familiar press of his hand on her belly. She tried to turn but he halted her, stroked her arms from wrist to shoulder, brushing thick,brown-gold waves back from her face. He leaned in so her backside conformed to his hips, blew warm soft breaths over her neck. She shivered, arched her throat to allow him easier access. He knew she loved neck kisses, knew they were her third favorite type of kiss. He also knew the first two. Slowly, her moved his lips down her throat, nuzzled her collar bone. He found the fleshy part of her shoulder, opened his mouth over it, letting his teeth graze skin. She moaned softly, wiggled her bottom against the front of his pants. He spread his fingers, stroked them up her ribs, slid higher to cup her breasts. Through the soft pink of her t-shirt, he teased her, pinching gently until she was writhing against him. He turned her around then, his eyes a question.

She shoved her hands down his pants by way of response, pulling up the fabric of his shirt, tugging it free of the waistband. She worked furiously at the buttons, wanting to feel the hot, hard skin of his chest against her cheek.

He managed to catch her around the waist, drag them both down to the floor. She landed on top of him, her legs locking around his thighs. The position offered easy access to her torso. He ran his hands up her sides, dragging her shirt up with them. No bra, just skin. Just Kaylee.

He fitted his hands over her, molding her to his palms. She whimpered, loving the way those gentle, healing hands worked over her. Doctor's hands, long slender fingers, nimble, torturous as they pet. She bent forward so he could take her in his mouth, sucking, suckling. She felt the pangs of lust reach deep in her belly.

Slowly, she slithered down his body. He thought of mermaids from children's stories, warm and wet and always topless. Her fingers found his waistband, her hand pressing flat against his zipper to tease before she drew it down slowly, slid her hand inside. He ground out a breath as she encircled him, began to stroke and squeeze. He groaned and reached down to grab her shoulders, rolling her beneath him. He kicked his pants the rest of the way down, started tugging at her coveralls. He could feel she was ready through her underwear, pushed the slip of cotton out of the way and slid two fingers inside just for the pleasure of watching her face change. Her eyes went wide, her teeth biting down on her lower lip to quell the wail. With careful pressure, he stroked in slow orbits, didn't ease up until she was rocking, jutting up against his hand.

"Inside me," she murmured. She met his eyes, her own pleading, innocent and straight to the soul.

He started to move over her but she pushed him back, pressed him down on to the shuttle floor. She lowered herself onto him, and in that one swift motion every thought was wiped from Simon Tam's brain. There was only her, sweet and tight and full, holding him, anchoring him.

He kissed her while they made love, cradling her face in his hands, smoothing wet strands of hair back from her face. He knew when she was close, felt her tremble, lose her rhythm. He caught her shoulders when she fell forward, let himself fall after her.

Afterwards, he held her, stroking lazy fingers down her spine. Her hand rested on his chest, the slim silver band catching the light, reflecting it back again.

Oh, yes, if there was sin it was surely his own. He wished he could feel guilty. Later, he'd go back to the infirmary, back to his research. From Jayne's arm to his brain--a frightening thought. For now, he pushed his sister and her frightening message from his head. Kaylee. Warm, wet, sex-tousled Kaylee. Kaylee who loved him. Wife.

---

Smiling to herself, Inara turned the corner quickly, crashed into a man's chest. Hands gripped her shoulders, pulled her back to arm's length.

"Throwin' yourself at me again?"

Jen dao mei. Why couldn't it have been Jayne? The thought was enough to jar her to her senses. True, things with Mal were awkward of late. But she needn't lose her head over it.

His smirk lacked its usual confidence. She knew he sensed the change between them, felt the same quickening in his chest when they were together.

"Shuh muh," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm sorry, those suspenders just drive a girl to distraction."

"You know, Inara, the witty barbs at my apparel stung a mite more 'fore you started prancin' about in Simon's surgical scrubs." He eyed the hospital-blue pants she'd paired with one of Kaylee's belly-baring tops. Tight and white and all manner of tempting.

"These," she said, pinching the loose fabric around her waist, "are extremely fashionable on certain worlds, I'll have you know."

"Yeah? 'Haps we should visit some of 'em. That'd be the planet of the tongue-tied mechanic-stealing fugitives, wouldn't it?"

"Try the planet of the don't you have anything better to do? Annoying me has to be low on a busy captain's docket."

"As a matter of fact, I was on my way to check on the shuttle. Lil' Kaylee promised to have her runnin' by week's end." He started to step past her. She threw up a hand to stop him.

"No, wait." She bit down on her lower lip. "You can't."

"I can't what, Nara?"

When she didn't answer, he shook his head, started past. She hesitated, torn between wanting to protect her friend's privacy and yearning to see the expression on Mal's face when he emerged. Inara had just come from the shuttle herself, intent on asking Kaylee about the restoration progress. Kaylee's bunk was cozy enough, but Inara missed the space and solitude the shuttle afforded. True Kaylee had moved in with Simon, but twice already she's knocked on her old door in the middle of the night. Can-I-sleep-with-you-me-and-Simon-had-a-fight, she'd said all in one whimpery breath. Inara didn't mind the company, and Simon and Kaylee's fights scarcely lasted more than a couple hours. Still, one of these nights Inara might not be alone when Kaylee came calling. She hardly thought Mal would appreciate the audience. But then Mal hadn't touched her since that sweetly strange good night kiss. Maybe he was nervous--it had been months since they made love. What if this time it was different, what if they were different? Circumstances were certainly different. They knew more now, understood more. It all added up to a mess of complications, and now was not the time to sort them out.

"Mal. Wait."

"There some reason you don't want me goin' in my own shuttle, kitten?"

"I, um...Can you not call me a kitten?" she said suddenly.

"Sure. Xiaomao." He grinned.

"That's Chinese for kitten," she said through ground teeth.

"Smart little xiaomao." He skirted around her, sidestepping easily when she tried to grab his arm. He turned the corner, still talking. "You and Kaylee paintin' those gorram flowers on the walls again? I told that girl I'd lock her in the cargo hold if she put any more flowers on my--tyen shiao duh."

Mal stumbled blindly around the corner, one hand plastered over his eyes.

"Oh, that image'll be with me to the grave. I think you best shoot me now, Nara. Really, be a bit o' mercy."

"I tried to warn you," she hissed under her breath. From the open shuttle door, she heard the sounds of two people scurrying around to find lost clothes, dressing madly. In a second, Kaylee scampered out, jumpsuit hastily buttoned.

"Cap'n?" She met Inara's eyes since Mal still had his blocked. "I'm sorry. Really, we was just cuddlin' though. We'd already got through the fun part."

"Kaylee, I'm begging you, don't speak no more."

Kaylee rolled her eyes, dragged Mal's fingers forcefully from his face.

"Cap'n." She lowered her voice, aware that Simon was still stumbling into his pants in the next room. "Ain't like that's the first time you walked in on me."

"That was different. Not that I much enjoyed that experience neither, but you was just some prairie harpy then, not, you know, you." He turned to Inara, seeking help. "Don't she and the boy have bunks? I seem to recall givin' em bunks."

"Uh huh. You bunkin' in the infirmary now, Cap? Or how 'bout the cockpit?" Kaylee could be sarcastic with the best of 'em when she set her mind to it.

Mal turned weary eyes on Inara, who chose that moment to discover something fascinating on the floor.

"Kaylee," Mal started, taking a deep breath as his ears burned.

"Unclench, Cap'n." She patted his jaw lightly. "I'm a married lady now, all grown up."

"You're twenty-four," Mal said dryly. "And just 'cuz you up and went to a priest, said some pretty words, don't make you grown."

"Aw." She smiled affectionately. "You really wanted to give me away, didn't ya?"

"I--that is just not--Kaylee, where you get these bun ideas, anyhow?"

Both girls studied him now, grinning widely. Like he was a swai little puppy and them wanting a nibble. It was all manner of disturbing.

"You--get back to work on my shuttle," Mal ordered, gesturing at Kaylee. "And you--you..."

Inara watched him curiously, amusement flickering in her eyes.

"You--you go teach some folk to two-step," he improvised.

He strode down the hall, muttering something about where was a preacher when you needed one.

---

"Captain. Thanks for coming." Simon rolled his chair up to the exam table, gestured for Mal to sit. "About earlier..."

"We ain't got no need to talk on that!" Mal said quickly. "And I'm only here to lose the gorram weave. Itches like a sumbitch."

"Right. Sorry." Simon peeled the bandage back from Mal's side, ran a gloved finger over the scar. "Your lucky the bullet went straight through."

"Yeah. Luck's always the first word comes to mind when you hear my name."

"Mm, luck." Simon pinched out the stitches, one at a time. "I would have gone with crime. Violence, perhaps. Thievery."

"Oh, you wanna talk about thievin', do ya? This from the piece of niou se stole off with my mechanic." But his tone was mild, lacking its usual bite.

Simon had to admire a man who'd insult someone with forceps pointed at his belly.

"Mal...I love her." Her put his scissors down. "Even you're not so jaded as to question that very basic fact."

"Yeah, don't mean I gotta like it none. Pick up the pace, Doc; got important crime needs hatchin'."

"Actually, I hoped we could talk while I have you here. Immobilized, so to speak."

"This 'bout your new bride?"

"N-no."

"Make it quick."

"River. You're aware that she waved us."

"Yeah, Jayne did mention as much."

"I've tried to piece together a picture from the bits she told him. I still can't make sense of it all. The human brain is...complex, partially understood at best. Do you remember what happened on Bellerophon? A couple weeks ago..."

"Ain't like to forget anytime soon."

"Something was wrong then. Her message didn't make sense, the attack she showed you didn't transpire."

"Her psychic did seem to be on the fritz."

"Captain...perhaps you could do me a favor."

Mal raised a brow.

"I seem to recall doin' you a whole pile o' favors in recent history."

"And I'm grateful, really. It's just that you and River have...a connection."

"Doctor," Mal warned, not liking one bit where this was headed.

"You've...seen into eachother's brains. The room on Beaumonde, when Niska held you captive. River visited you then, talked to you even." Mal opened his mouth to speak but Simon cut him off. "I don't know what you two discussed, but it hurt her; that much was clear. She felt, at least a little, what you were feeling. But now, I'm starting to think it works both ways. And on Bellerophon, Captain: I don't think River was in your brain; I think she brought you into hers."

Mal was silent a moment. Simon waited expectantly.

"Doc, I think you been livin' on a spaceship too long," Mal said finally.

"Captain--"

"For sure your sister's a genius, psychic even. But only thing I can read is books. Yes, I've read books," he added when Simon raised a brow.

"All I'm asking is that you try, Mal. Just try to reach her. I can't help her unless I understand what's happening to her. And I have to help her."

"Yeah." Mal nodded, buttoning back up his shirt. "Yeah, I know you do."

---

River watched him shower. Facing the wall, he inclined his head, the steady, heavy spray gliding across his hair, dripping over the muscles of his chest, sliding in sleek droplets down his naked back.

" 'Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.' "

Gideon jumped, turned slowly.

"River. Did you need something?"

"Not me." She padded barefoot into the steam, felt the mist lick at her face. "Gideon needs."

She stepped under the spray. It soaked her hair, plastering the dark strands to her face and neck.

"So much pain." Her fingers reached up, cupped around the back of his head. "Always turning, turning. No rest."

"River...I'm feeling a little underdressed for psychoanalysis."

"Alone, alone, all, all alone/ Alone on a wide wide sea/ And never a saint took pity on / My soul in agony."

"River." He was almost begging.

"Take your ease, Gideon the Warrior." She stood on tip toe to find his lips.

---

Baby steps. Wasn't that the way? She knocked.

"I'm naked, go away."

"Mal, it's Inara."

"Ohhh. Well." She heard him clear his throat. "Come on down."

She climbed down the ladder, wondering at the view afforded by her descending backside. Mal lay on the bed, fully clothed, arms folded behind his head.

"I thought you were naked," she teased.

"I could be," he countered. Then, not wanting to scare her off, "To what do I owe the pleasure, Miz Serra?"

"I, um--are you busy? I could come back..."

"Not busy." He sat up. "Was goin' along with one of the doc's feng kuang notions, but it's outta my system." Ruttin' ridiculous idea, knocking at the door of River's brain from a million miles away.

"So you're free then?"

Mal looked suspicious.

"Well, I'm free for you. Not free for talkin' to Jayne, which I'm still not doin'--don't give me that look. Also ain't interested in helpin' Kaylee and my sister conjure up homemade baby food for a kid ain't got no teeth. Gorramn freezer'll be filled with purified protein 'fore week's end, and--"

"Mal."

"Yeah?"

"I just came down for a goodnight kiss. Do you think you can shut up for that long?"

Mal swallowed.

"Yeah, think I can do that."

Neither of them made a move to cross the room.

She raised a brow. He did the same.

"You comin'?"

"I'm not kissing you on your bunk, Mal."

"Why's that?"

"We both know why."

"Don't push your lack of willpower off on me, darlin'." But he rose, crossed the room in a few long strides.

"Goodnight," he said softly.

"Good--"

He swallowed her lips before she could finish. His mouth seduced, slow and easy as his fingers grazed her scalp, slid down to the ends of her hair. He let his tongue sweep lightly against hers, felt rather than heard her moan against his mouth.

"You, uh." He broke away, dragging in air. "You should prolly go back to your room now, darlin'."

"I think it's too late for should," she said quietly.

"Shangdi," he murmured, dragging her back against him. They fell back on the bed, and he rolled her under him. He skimmed kisses along her jawline, her cheeks.

"Mal." She sucked at his lower lip, ran it lightly through her teeth.

He groaned, started drawing wet, open-mouth kisses along her throat. Suddenly she went stiff in his arms.

"Stop. Buyao!"

Mal lifted his head, saw the look in her eyes.

"You're serious." He shifted off of her, pulled her into a sitting position. She was trembling. He started to panic. "What's wrong? I do somethin'?"

She shook her head, her whole body rocking.

"Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?" He ran his hands over her arms, her belly, not quite sure what he was looking for. "Inara, you gotta help me out here."

"It wasn't..." She had to stop, gasp in a breath. "You didn't...it wasn't anything you did. For a moment--it was like something else was happening."

"Inara...all that was happenin' was kissing. My lips, your neck."

"It wasn't you, Mal. I--I don't know that it was either of us."

"Okay. Now you lost me." He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, her cheek. Cool as a creek. "Tell me what's wrong."

She met his eyes calmly.

"River."

---

Mal settled Inara at the table with a tall glass of water. Then he got on the 'com.

"This is your captain speaking. We're convening a crew meeting in the kitchen for the following folk: Zoe, Inara, Jayne, Newlyweds. This event is not, I repeat not, clothing optional. Caroline, you're of course welcome to join, though I ain't makin' it mandatory on account of you not never meetin' the little albatross. Bring your books, Doctor."

Mal sat at the table, raked a hand through his hair.

The crew filed in with relative speed.

"Hey, Mal," Jayne tried. "How's your evenin' been?"

Mal raised a brow.

"Just shiny, thanks. I see you're solo, Zoe. My sister keepin' an eye on Little Chick."

"Sir," she nodded.

"Prolly best. Ain't exactly sure how long this'll take."

"Captain." Simon met Mal's eyes across the table. "Did you...were you able to reach my sister?"

"Funny story there. If by funny one means all manner o' disturbing."

"I don't understand."

"That seems to be goin' around." Mal cleared his throat, shrugged. "I tried ringin' your sister's doorbell, Doc. No response. Then, not half an hour later, she kinda popped up."

"Um...popped?"

"I could feel her, Simon." Inara kept her hands on the glass, anchored by its coolness. "Or rather, I could feel what River felt. For a second."

"I'm confused...er. Is River communing with you too now, Nara?"

"It wasn't really like that, Kaylee."

"Then how did Inara--"

"We were kissing, okay?" Mal glanced around the table, daring someone to comment. "Happy?"

"Hell, yeah," Kaylee declared.

"I'm ruttin' relieved," Jayne admitted. "'Bout gorramn time."

Simon held up a hand.

"I'm still a little baffled. So the captain acted as a medium for River's feelings and Inara...received them?"

"Aw, hell, that sounds like a load of fei hua if I ever heard one."

"Bi zui," Mal and Zoe said in unison, exchanged glances that said 'wo de ma, we've known eachother too long.'

"Did she try to tell you anything, Inara?"

"We didn't exactly speak. It was more basic, physical. I think she was...with someone. A man," she added for clarity's sake.

"That's not...I don't think she's ever even--"

"She's a grown woman, Simon," Inara said gently. "And, in truth, I'm not one to make mistakes when it comes to matters of intimacy."

"Nara would know," Jayne agreed, ducking guiltily at Mal's death stare.

"The point," Mal said firmly, "is that lil' albatross needs our help. Not with the, uh...What I mean is, she could be in danger. No one knows exactly what the Alliance did to her or how it'll affect her down the road. Now each of us has River memories, times we spent with her, bits we may have gleaned. Think it's time we fit some of the puzzle pieces, dong ma?"

The others nodded; even Jayne seemed unusually cooperative for once.

"Good crew," Mal praised. "Doc, you go first, seein' how you're the one knows your sister best. What have you found in that pretty little befuddlin' brain o' hers?"

Simon glanced around the table, saw five sets of eyes watching him intently. This--his sister's condition--mattered to them. They cared for her, cared enough to help. Simon folded his hands in front of him, began to speak.

"Much of this is speculative. Some of it comes from River herself, what she told me, what she didn't. I suppose there's no way to be sure--"

"Thought that's why we did the Ariel job," Jayne interjected. "Weren't that supposed to explain it all?"

"The pictures from the 3D neuro imager aroused more questions than they supplied answers. I knew what they did to her but I couldn't understand why. I couldn't understand why anyone would cut into a healthy brain, strip the amygdala..." He trailed off, noting the blank stares.

"They amygdala acts as a sort of emotional regulator for the brain. It controls our more basic feelings: fear, aggression, the sex drive. It also had important functions related to memory. You see, it connects our visual memories to our behavioral reactions."

"And somebody without an amygdala--how's she fare?" Mal asked quietly.

"It's hard to say. Most of the data is ancient, experiments done on animals back on Earth-that-Was. Monkeys, mainly. Perhaps because they lack our capacity for upper-level reasoning, the removal of the amygdala is particularly detrimental. These primates developed a condition called 'psychic blindness.' Essentially, they could see objects but lacked any conception of their psychological significance."

"Doc?" Mal cleared his throat. "Might wanna dumb it down a little for those of us without fancy medical degrees."

"Sorry. They monkeys became almost apathetic in that nothing scared them, nothing angered. A familiar object no longer carries the same meaning, the same warnings or triggers. Do you remember when River had the gun in the cargo bay?"

"Ain't like to forget it," Mal muttered.

"She told me later it was like holding a tree branch. The significance of the pistol was completely lost to her. She understood that she was holding a gun, but she didn't comprehend its significance, its capabilities."

"That seems a dangerous trait, Doctor," Mal commented. His eyes were cool, unreadable.

"It can be. The monkeys sought pleasure almost arbitrarily, confusing routine objects, jumbling their purposes. Some of them tried to mate with and consume anything, living or otherwise."

"But that don't sound like River," Kaylee protested. "Sounds more like--"

"Reavers," Simon finished. "It gets worse."

"What's worse than rape and cannibalism?" Inara murmured.

Mal glanced at her but didn't offer words of comfort. His expression was dark, dangerous.

"Another function of the amygdala is to sustain social relationships. It's crucial to facial recognition; without an amygdala, animals would be unable to distinguish friend from enemy, so you see, the survival of a species depends on it. Even members of their own tribe could be suspect. I read one study in which a man suffered brain damage, injured his amygdala. He recognized his own parents but believed them to be impostors, not the mother and father he once knew."

"Reavers don't hunt their own," Jayne muttered. "Only go after the rest of us."

"That why they desecrate their flesh?" Zoe asked, shuddering. "Mark up their faces way they do?"

"It might allow them to recognize fellow Reavers more readily," Simon admitted. "Of course, all of this is speculative. There's not way to know..."

"Here's the part where you lost me, Doc. River's a girl. An odd girl, granted, but that don't make her a Reaver."

"No, Jayne," Mal agreed. "But looks like the Alliance wanted her to think like one, hunt like one maybe. Isn't that right, Doctor?"

Kaylee frowned.

"I ain't followin' ya, Simon. Alliance didn't removed the Amy-whatevers from the Reavers, did they?"

"My supposition is that the Miranda Pax targeted the aspects of human behavior controlled by the amygdala. Likely, they attempted to affect changes to the chemical output of the amygdala by altering its size. The intention was to cause the areas controlling aggression and fear to contract and the parts controlling pleasure and sexual function to swell, creating a more peaceful populace. The social implications on a wider scale were never studied, as Miranda itself was the initial testing ground."

"But it all went so terribly wrong," Inara said quietly. "It didn't work the way they intended at all."

"Maybe it's similar to the crowd mentality. If one person in a crowd starts to panic, then panic will spread, often escalate to the point of violence. What happened to the people of Miranda was similar in a sense. The calming effect "escalated" as it spread throughout the population. No one worried about the changes because the Pax had so drastically reduced anxiety levels. Most of the population gradually, peacefully lost its will to live."

"A small percent of the population experienced an adverse reaction to the PAX--the group that would become the Reavers. In their case, the centromedial nucleus--the region of the amygdala controlling emotional arousal and aggression--became inflamed. The swelling caused the tissue to secrete excessive amounts of chemicals. This accounts for their aggression, their unmitigated violence. As the amygdala swelled, other parts of the brain felt the impact, suffered damage as a result. This includes the hippocampus, a part of the brain that accesses long term memory. The Reavers likely forgot whom they once were and began surviving solely by instinct. They ceased to be their former selves and became something other."

For a moment no one spoke. Kaylee looked horrified, Inara sad. Jayne looked disgusted, and Zoe wouldn't look at anyone, just stared down at her own hands. Mal reigned in his anger, his voice cool as he spoke.

"Wasn't the edge of space that made the Reavers what they are. Was the darkness of mankind, his gorram fears and his gorram goals."

"They wanted to make things better," Kaylee said quietly. "Look what they made."

---

Chinese Translations:

wode--mine

xia tian--summer

hua--flower

xiaomao--kitten

buyao--don't

Shangdi--God


	9. Chapter 9

---

There wasn't a dawn, but in the hour dawn would have come, all tawny-eyed and gold-skinned and rose-lipped, River slid out from his arms, dressed quickly in the dark and crept from the room.

Was she changed? Was anything? Everything and nothing, Inara would say. Inara. Full of contradictions. Not like Kaylee. Sweet Kaylee, cozy in her idealism. River liked playing with Kaylee, laughing and chasing, cooking and sharing chores. Liked Inara too, but Inara made her brain hurt. Youth and old age. Faithful and faithless. Pain and pleasure. A flawless mess of hurt and hope. She tried to comfort--long comb strokes through knotted hair. But River felt her turmoil, felt it twist and tangle, tight as the knots in her hair. Inara had been with men, hundreds maybe. Old men and young. Good, bad and all shades of gray. But did she understand this? Did anyone?

She liked how he looked at her during. Not a crazy little girl--broken witch, little weapon, bird of charm--but a woman, whole and actual. Girl parts--lips, curves, places that molded, pieces that fit. A full, flesh-and-blood woman, and him a man, simple as that. Made her smile, made her happy, just like the calm after.

All the screams rendered silent, his body gone slack over hers. The quite lasted long hours--not long enough--as River lay still. She listened to nothing. In-and-out breath sounds, soul at ease. He'd wake soon, warrior-tense. All the things he dreamed: parents' bodies, mangled and bloody and broken. Reavers snapping, little blond boy locked in a trunk. Daddy stuck him in tight, made him swallow the key.

Sometimes he dreamed about Zoe, her belly heavy with child. Sometimes he made love to her before the Reavers came. Sometimes Gideon was the Reaver, the one to kill Zoe, tear into her flesh.

Body hurt. Unfamiliar tingles, sore in strange places and alive in others. She expected as much--pain and pleasure in equal measure. But the other...She'd thought her head was her own now. The captain got inside, but that was different. He didn't know what was happening, couldn't help it. Intimate, root words in and mate. Mate was easy: to come together for breeding purposes. In was the rub. Inside, interior. Had Inara tried to warn her? Too late, already torn. A trespass, worse than the Academy in ways. Good parts, bad parts. Further experimentation was needed to establish a more sound theory.

---

"So they made her then. Aoman bastards made her to kill the Reavers." Jayne snorted, shoved his chair back from the table.

Mal looked up.

"Jayne. Where you think you're goin'?"

"Oh, I'm just refuelin'," Jayne muttered, swinging his coffee mug. "Gorramn hwoon dan Alliance. What kinda government gets girls to fight its wars?"

"I'm too tired to decide whether that was sexist. We need a rest, Captain. Been at this hours, and it's almost morning."

"I'm not quite finished, Zoe," Mal said cooly, ignoring the way Inara blinked in surprise. He swung his gaze to Simon. "Let's talk side effects, Doctor."

Simon shrugged, folded his hands on the table.

"You've seen most of them. Removal of the amygdala results in a skewed sense of fear and anxiety. She stays and fights when most would flee."

"Now who's that sound like," Jayne muttered, returning to his seat. "Maybe the Alliance removed some o' Mal's parts too."

Inara kicked his ankle under the table, shook her head slowly when he turned. Jayne was about one smart-ass utterance away from a bullet wound.

"Makes sense." Zoe was nodding, loyal to Mal even if she disagreed with his logic in running them all ragged. "Trained soldiers would head for the hills, they saw Reavers comin'. Alliance needed someone different, someone--"

"Inhuman," Jayne finished.

"Jayne," Kaylee murmured, glancing at Simon.

"What? We're all thinkin' it, I'm just the only one with balls enough to say it out loud."

"If you know that, maybe you shouldn't say it," Inara hissed.

"Didn't think this meetin' was for talkin' pretty, Inara. That may be your specialty, but mine is--"

"Quit bickering, all of ya. He's right. They tried to make her something less than human." Mal met Simon's eyes across the table. "But it ain't my belief they succeeded. Go on, Doctor."

"The amygdala plays a part in a variety of brain functions. And, of course, the ramifications of any one brain injury vary from person to person. But, some common side effects are dulled emotions, impaired vocalization skills, a lack of motivation, hypersexual tendencies--"

"Hyper-what-was-that?" Mal asked just as Jayne said, "What-sexual tendencies?"

"The amygdala does play a function in sexual appetite, sexual aggression, etc. Some patients suffer from an overactive libido, increased curiosity about the sex act, a preoccupation with the sex lives of those around them. But I haven't really noticed those changes in River..." Simon trailed off, glanced at the faces around the table. "What?"

The crew looked distinctly uncomfortable. Zoe suddenly turned very interested in the contents of her tea cup. Mal and Inara made eye contact--a single, searing glance before both looked away. Kaylee was staring at her lap, and even Jayne refused to meet Simon's gaze.

"What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

"Mal," Inara said quietly.

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again when he found the words missing. Inara sighed.

"Simon, I think we've all seen at least some of those characteristics in River. Much of it's to be expected; she is a young girl blossoming into womanhood--"

"Oh, wait just a gorramn minute. That why she kept nickin' Mal's and my clothes?"

"This is ridiculous. She's just a kid, she plays games like a kid."

"No," Zoe said firmly, though not unkindly. "Was when they took her away, but she ain't that anymore."

"I don't understand where this is coming from. Did my sister...do anything?"

"Ain't like that exactly, Simon," Kaylee said gently "She's just...curious."

"Well, she's going through puberty. It's natural for her to wonder about certain things, things adults do in private."

"We're just gonna hop right over the word 'adults' 'cuz that's far too easy. And I know I'm gonna regret asking this in about a minute," Mal admitted. "But ain't it a mite late for the puberty thing, Doc?"

"Yes. It should have happened years ago. The doctors at the Academy wanted to delay it for some reason. They gave her drugs."

"Ren ci de fo zu," Inara murmured.

The others exchanged loaded glances.

"What aren't you all telling me?" Simon asked carefully.

"Don't get snippy, Doc. Ain't anything especial. Lil' Albatross just tends to sneak about, seein' things she prolly shouldn't."

"Captain, I don't really--"

"Wash and me," Zoe spoke up. "Caught her watchin' us a couple times on the bridge."

Inara turned, held Zoe's eye a second before the older woman dropped her gaze. She saw Mal looking as well.

"I've had similar experiences, Simon." Inara lay a comforting hand on his. "I've noticed her lingering when M--someone...and I...when I was with someone," she finished lamely.

"So she's watched a few of you making out. This boat isn't exactly a luxury liner. It's a small space. I'm sure we've all walked in on someone else's intimate moment." He shot Mal a pointed look, pleased when the captain blushed.

"Simon, don't get mad, but I saw her watching once, whilst you and me was..." Kaylee glanced up guiltily, leaned over to whisper in his ear. When she finished, Simon looked considerably paler.

"My sister saw us having...having...Oh, I think I need a drink."

"That rattles him?" Mal elbowed Inara. "I walked in on 'em, naked as the day they was born, and--"

"Bi zui, Mal. Simon, I'd like to speak with her...if she waves us again. I think it's important she talk to another woman right now."

"Inara, what exactly was she...?" Simon stopped, realizing it wasn't his place to ask those questions. "Thank you, Inara. I'd appreciate that."

"Of course. And now, I think we should do as Zoe suggested and recess for the night. Is that alright with you, Mal?"

Mal met her gaze, surprised she bothered asking his approval. It softened the usurp of his authority, like balm to a wounded ego. Woman had wiles to spare when she chose to use 'em.

" 'Spose that ain't a bad notion. Not like there's much more we can do tonight. Get some shuteye, people; don't expect to find y'all sleepin' the day away tomorrow."

---

Leaning against the door frame, she watched him. She could tell he was exhausted, saw it in the way he slumped over his notes, raked a hand through his hair so the inky strands--River's hue or shades lighter?--gathered on top of his head, fell back into his eyes when he let go. Man needed sleep--weren't it her job to look out for him now? She was the one should offer comfort, keep this obsession, his monomania, in check. Sometimes it guilted her, chewed at her insides; after all, River was her friend too. Weren't that she didn't want her back, want her safe and sound, back on Serenity. Of course she did, and of course she missed the strange little girl with her big laughing eyes (all-seeing eyes) her playfulness, the joy she took in simple things like fresh apples and hide-and-seek in the cargo hold. Serenity weren't the same no more, hadn't been for so long. They kept hacking away bits of her, friends leaving holes like missing rooms or maybe just haunted ones. River's ghost walked the catwalks now too, a beautiful bewitching ghost-girl who haunted the cap'n, haunted poor Simon.

Simon. It was like a part of him broke right off when River Tam left Serenity. He tried to hide the pain, the new and not-wholly-unpleasant fury kindling in his gut. But she could feel it. She knew it would get him eventually, consume him from the inside out if River stayed gone. Simon wasn't Mal. He couldn't live without bits of his soul.

She went to him then, put her hands on his neck, kneading into his shoulders. He jumped at first--he hadn't heard her approach. Then he began to relax, let his head fall forward beneath her touch, and groaned.

"Where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked sleepily, his tone warm, one arm reaching behind to hug her around the waist. "Seriously, you could charge money for those. Well, not that you would...charge for it, I mean..."

This was her role now too, just like fixin' the ship, keepin' the cap'n from bein' more of an ogre than was normal. She was the wife--Mrs. Dr. Simon Tam, Kaywinnet Lee Tam--and him her husband. Kaylee hadn't exactly had many people in her life--no way in hell was she gonna lose this one. She'd fight to make certain she didn't.

"Simon. I think there's somethin' me and you need to talk on."

She'd employed her serious tone. Kaylee didn't use that tone often; Simon thought it a bad omen that she was using it now, for him, with the ink on their wedding license still wet. He wheeled himself around slowly, stood up and patted the chair for her to sit.

Her eyes filled.

"Dammit, Simon, why you always gots to be a gentleman? Really undoes a girl when you're all sweet-like"

"I--I don't know. I'm sorry," he tried. "Kaylee, don't cry."

He put his arms around her, relieved when she went willingly, snuggled against his chest and buried her face in his shirt.

"I'm crazy--fong luh. Just...please stop crying...please."

She pulled away, wiping at her face with her fingers.

"Aw, honey." She looked sad, wistful. "You're apologizing all wrong."

"Kaylee...I don't understand."

"Well, that ain't exactly a shocker. Simon, why didn't you tell me none o' that? 'Bout River and Reavers and the amy-whatchamacallit. I know I ain't like you and your sister--ain't bright. Ain't a genius, surely. But you coulda confided in me; I woulda listened."

"Kaylee--"

"Ain't right you keepin' all your hurt to yourself that way. Hell, Simon, I'm your wife. Don't that mean nothin'? Ain't we supposed to share our hurts?"

She backed slowly, teary-eyed, out of the infirmary, leaving Simon to wonder how Top Three Percent flunked marriage his first week out.

---

"Malcom."

"Shen Sheng...!" Mal took a breath, turned slowly in his chair. "Tryin' to kill me, Sis?"

"You're a mite young for a heart attack, Brother." Caroline jiggled the baby in her arms. "And if hearing about Jayne and me doing the nasty didn't send you to an early grave--"

"Oh, ai ya, Carly! You tryin' to give me nightmares?" He shuddered. The nasty? He'd wager a hundred platinum she picked up that one from Kaylee.

She tousled his hair affectionately, pleased when he made a face but didn't jerk his head away.

"When you were a boy and had a bad dream, I'd let you sleep in my room." She smiled, picturing a quivery-lipped four year old with golden-brown curls.

"That's good, Caroline." Mal tickled a finger down Raven's bare foot. "Be sure to bring that up at dinner tomorrow, sure it'll rouse a good laugh from the crew."

"You stopped when you were six, insisted you were a man, and that real men slept alone."

And now he was thirty-four. And he'd slept almost all his nights alone.

"Yeah...I was gorramn adorable. What are you and the chick doin' up at this hour?"

"I was looking for Zoe. This little one's wanting a midnight snack."

"Just like her daddy." Mal shook his head ruefully, reached his hands out for Raven. "And oddly enough, they're prolly after the same thing. Check the box; Zoe's usually got a bottle or two prepped."

"Lord knows the girl could use the rest," Caroline said approvingly. She went to warm the milk.

Mal balanced the baby on his arm, supporting her tiny head in one wide palm. She blinked at him, huge eyes solemn. If she could speak...well, Mal had a fairly strong suspicion of what she'd say. What in the go tsao de 'verse am I doing here with these folk? Each of 'em more crazy than the last, and Uncle Mal the gorramn ring leader. Well, hopefully she wouldn't word it quite like that. He made a mental note to watch his language around the chick.

"She's a good eater," Caroline commented, watching Raven suck greedily at the bottle Mal held to her little lips.

"I guess," Mal agreed, trying like hell not to think about how he was feeding the baby something that came out of someone. Zoe, of all people. His first mate and war buddy. Shiong-tsan sha-sho turned doting mama. Dear God, they were getting old.

"You can go on to bed," he told his sister. "She and I done this a time or two." He cleared his throat, added, "Was good of you to mind her before."

"I enjoy it. She's a good baby, sweet, not overly fussy. You remember how Ella used to shriek the minute we put her down. Always wanting to be held, that girl."

"Caroline," he said quietly. His tone wasn't harsh so much as firm, his eyes on Raven's.

"I'm allowed to remember, Mal."

"Watched you travel that road once. Ain't got a burning desire to see it again."

"It's changed now. I'm changed."

"That kinda thing don't ever change, not really."

"I wonder at the ease with which you offer advice, Little Brother."

Mal snorted.

"Caroline, I wonder at that my own self."

She smiled; she couldn't help it.

"You know, you could have one of these. You and she would have a pretty one."

"Yeah, but don't think Zoe and I could stop laughin' long enough to make it."

"I meant Inara," she chided, boxing his ear playfully. "She's beautiful, Mal."

"Girl ain't ugly," he admitted.

"Kaylee tells me you fight like wildcats. I'll bet that makes the sex better."

Mal raised a brow.

"Have to ask Kaylee. Don't let on to the doc you know--suspect he's the jealous sort."

Caroline rolled her eyes. She stood, kissed Raven and Mal in turn. When she leaned over, her cross fell out of her blouse, dangled before his face.

"You're infuriating. You know that, don't you?"

"Had an inkling."

"Goodnight, Malcom. I'm going to bed."

He would not, absolutely not ask whose.

---

Mal carried a sleeping Raven down the ladder, quiet so as not to wake her slumbering mama. He could have hosted the little chick his own self, but she had a habit of wakin' folk at 6AM. Mal tended to dislike being torn from sleep by the sound of screaming. He settled the baby in her bassinet, checking to be sure her stuffed dinosaur was in easy reach.

"Sweet dreams, darlin'." He smoothed back her downy hair, started toward the door.

"That you, Sir?"

He hesitated at the bottom of the ladder.

"Just returning your bundle of joy. Go on back to sleep now."

"Good of your sister to help out."

"Well, Carly's a good girl. Always been generous with folk."

"Glad she's flyin' with us, Sir."

"Yeah...yeah, well I'm not."

"Sir, you weren't the one torched her house."

"No, don't 'spose I was. Still, wouldn't've happened if I stayed gone."

"She knew the risks, Sir. Crossin' the Alliance ain't for the weak-hearted. Your sister ain't weak."

"Mm." It was too dark to see her face, but he and Zoe spent plenty of nights talkin' in places just as black. "I just don't get it, Zoe."

"Get what, Sir?"

"Why she came out of Hell way she did...why I came out lookin' like this."

"Well, Sir...guess she got all the good genes in the family." Zoe's ironical voice sounded awful similar to her normal one. "And you ain't all that bad to look at. In certain lighting--Sir, you're almost pretty."

Zoe was never one for self-pity. Mal just shook his head, smiled into the darkness.

"That kid o' yours gonna have a mouth, ain't she."

"I'm hoping she takes after her father, Sir."

For a split second, Mal pictured a wisecracking two-year-old, charming and stubborn like her father, pretty and pensive, with her mother's sense of adventure. He could see her scampering around his ship, leaving a trail of small plastic dinosaurs in her wake. Not too long ago, he recalled putting his foot down when Kaylee wanted a puppy. Now he was Uncle Mal. Wuh de tyen, ah.

"Hell, Zoe. If during the War, someone told me I'd be rockin' your baby girl to sleep nights, I'd likely have hit the sumbitch."

"So would I, Sir."

"You think we're old, Zoe?"

"Only in years, Sir."

"Right. Night, Zoe."

"Goodnight, Captain."

---

When the last female a man bunked with for any considerable space was his own sister and he was four years old at the time, somethin' weren't quite right. He decided to remedy the situation this very night.

Didn't womenfolk like to be courted? Feeling sentimental, he stopped off in the kitchen, snagged a bottle of Kaylee's fine fermented engine wine. He had something folded in his pocket as well. Three or four glasses, and he might even show it to her.

Halfway to her bunk, he remembered the hour and almost turned back. The hell with it--didn't girls like spontaneous displays?

"Inara?" He knocked lightly. "You still awake, cupcake?"

"I'm awake, Mal." He could practically hear her teeth grind. "Only--"

But he was already descending the stairs, wine bottle clutched in one hand while the other held the ladder.

"Hey, darlin', you feel like neck--Kaylee." He tried to slide the drink subtly behind his back.

"He calls you cupcake?" Kaylee stopped crying long enough to make her 'aw' face. "That's all gooey, Nara."

"I'm a lucky woman," Inara agreed dryly.

"Didn't realize you ladies were...I'll just get out of your..." Mal hesitated, eyeing Kaylee's tear-streaked cheeks. "What's the news, Lil' Kaylee?"

"Naw, it's shiny, Cap'n. Simon and I just had a fight."

Mal sighed, set the wine on Inara's dresser and reached out an awkward hand to pat Kaylee's shoulder.

"Want me to shoot him?"

"That's sweet, Cap'n. But I'm a big girl--gotta stand on my own feet. Anyways, I'm the one started it, yellin' at him that way." Her tone was watery at the end.

"Kaylee, I got a hard time believin' this is your fault."

"Well, is. I went off on him, said he shoulda told me 'bout River steada keepin' me in the dark."

"Marriage is about sharing." Inara rubbed small circles over Kaylee's back. "You and Simon will learn that in time."

"And if not, I got no problem with shooting him."

Kaylee gave him a sad smile.

"Sorry to hump up your night, Cap'n. Looks like you had somethin' really special planned." Her eyes drifted over the bottle.

"Oh, that? That's just..." He trailed off, not quite able to meet Inara's gaze.

"Kaylee, why don't you go find Simon?" Inara coaxed. "I'm sure he's missing you terribly."

"I was cruel," she said miserably.

Mal laughed shortly.

"That, Lil' Kaylee, is an impossibility."

"Marriage is hard for everyone, especially young people just starting out. Both you and Simon are very young."

"Boy's got a good head on his shoulders though." Mal shrugged when the girls eyed him curiously. "More so than me at that age."

"Mmm, more so than you at any age," Inara teased.

Mal poked a finger between her ribs, forgetting he had an audience.

"Everything's gonna be shiny, Kaylee. You just go find that husband of yours and make up."

Alone, Mal and Inara fell strangely quiet. They sat on the bed, backs resting against the wall, arms almost touching. She was so near he could practically feel the heat radiating from her skin. He knew how she would feel beneath his fingers, ached to touch that softness again. Not like they'd never been here before--so why was his stomach doing flip flops just now? Ai ya, because it was different this time. They both knew it was.

"Mal--"

"Nara--"

"Go ahead," she offered, smiling encouragingly. She reached over to squeeze his knee, and when she did the strap of her nightgown slid down her arm, baring one perfect peachy-gold shoulder.

Tza gao, was he gonna say something? Just then, he couldn't quite recall.

"I, uh. Well, was gonna do this when we were both a mite less sober. But seein' as me and this night ain't gettin' any younger, figure now's as good a time as any. Made you somethin'."

"You did?" She sounded surprised but pleasantly so. He took that as a good sign, handed her the folded sheet.

"What's this?"

"Origami. It's a square--like it? Quit askin' so many questions and open it already."

She unfolded the page, and then her fingers froze. It was a profile, charcoal drawn with most of the right lines and shadows. Clearly he had some talent. But that wasn't what halted her. It was the love with which he treated his subject that had her stomach clenching.

She traced her own features with her eyes: full, rounded cheeks, dark tendrils of hair escaping the knot atop her head. The charcoal girl's lips curved up, but the smile fell short of her eyes. Did he see her so well, so honest and clear and true?

"It's beautiful," she said simply, unable to look away.

He shrugged.

"Middle of the night can be awful lonesome in the Black. Man tends to look for hobbies can occupy his time."

"Am I that, Mal?" Her eyes glowed gold in the lamplight. "One of your hobbies?"

He angled his head, reached up to spread a hand over her cheek.

"Wo de ma, Inara. You're my gorramn obsession."

She didn't know whether he pulled her onto his lap or if she climbed in on her own. But before she could breathe, he was kissing her, cradling her head in both hands as he took greedily from her lips.

His hands moved down her body in a leisurely exploration, caressing with warm familiarity, unmitigated desire.

"Inara. I ain't any good with words, but...shenshengde." He brushed a gentle kiss over her hair. "Dong ma?"

She nodded, kissing his temple, his cheek, the underside of his jaw. He rolled her beneath him, used his knee to nudge her legs apart, balanced on his arms between them.

"You know what this is, don't ya?"

"What is this, Mal?"

"Our second first time." His grin was sheepish.

"Nervous?" she teased.

"Oh, you're gorramn right I'm nervy. Got a lot to live up to, given last year's stellar performance."

"Stellar? Hmm..."

But she gave in when he tickled under her arm, reached up a hand to stroke his hair.

"At the training house...the girls called you my pirate."

His fingers found the hem of her nightgown, began sliding midnight-blue silk up her body.

"Did they now?"

He lowered his mouth to her breast, taking the tip between his lips. She caught her breath on a gasp, had to wait several seconds before she could speak.

"They said you kidnapped me to serve as your love slave, took me along on your adventures."

"Like I'd need to kidnap me a love slave. C'mon, Nara, it's me."

"It is you. Mal." Her tone was soft, her eyes warm and for once unguarded. "Make love to me, Mal. Qing."

"Don't even gotta ask," he murmured.

Together, they pushed his shirt over his head. When he lay down again, they were chest to chest. He slid his hands beneath her back and hugged her against him. They stayed that way a long time, kissing softly, skin brushing skin, their hearts beating against each other in the darkness.

---

Chinese Translations:

aoman--arrogant

shenshengde--sacred

qing--please


	10. Chapter 10

---

It whirled about in her memory: pretty snippets.

Heavy breath and long sighs, fluid kisses and heated flesh.

"Why, darlin'. I do believe you're blushin'."

"You were staring."

"Can't quite help myself."

"You've seen me without my clothes, Mal."

"Inara...I was lookin' at your eyes."

They were back on the bed now; she vaguely recalled ending the night on the floor.

How had they wound up there in the first place? Did they fall? At one point, he'd tugged her to the foot of the bed, dangled her legs over the edge and put his face between her thighs. After, she was boneless, wrecked. Perhaps she sort of slithered off then, or maybe he'd pulled her, gathering her on the floor in his lap, their bodies entwined. Then they just, stayed, made love on the cold hard floor, as if either of them noticed the surroundings. In the light, they'd both have bruises.

Merciful Buddha--just remembering made her want him again. How long this time? How long before it hurt? Little jabs, unforgivable barbs. And in the end, he'd run. The first time he rejected her--sent her away from him, from Serenity--left her weary and listless, so low that she literally sank to the floor, lay curled there crying with one hand pressed to her mouth to stifle the sobs. She'd understood, but understanding didn't ease the pain. Would he always push her away? He was so afraid of losing he wouldn't let himself have.

And if it were simple as that, they'd be okay. Perhaps they'd have always felt the tension, a certain quickening when the other was near. But they could have survived it. If they'd only accepted the impossible, it might not have consumed them. Now they'd waste away, devoured by their own demons, their doubts and their insecurities. A career courtesan in love with the Abominable Snow-Captain. She'd have laughed if she weren't so close to tears.

A voice in her brain kept screaming for her to leave. Get out, it wheedled. Elsewise, you'll regret it. Still, some parts were lovely. He made her laugh: that puritanical streak he kept hold of even into his thirties, even after war, after years in the Black. And those terrible, wonderful pet names. She knew he did it just to irk her, wished she could keep from smiling each time he fashioned a new one. Cupcake. She supposed he'd called her worse. She'd certainly crafted a few unflattering terms for him over the years. Why did they anger each other so? Maybe all their snippy insults, their sneering abuses were advanced retaliation for crimes not yet committed. They knew they'd hurt each other, anticipated the suffering and struck out against its cause.

He was deep in sleep, head mashed into the mattress, facing her on his side. She studied his face, torn, knowing if she woke him he'd open his mouth. The talking part was typically where she and Mal got into trouble. Still...if she lay here all morning she'd surely work herself into a frenzy. When it came to her and Mal, thinking seemed nearly as hazardous as speaking.

She hesitated, sprawled beside him, just inches from his naked body. Wuh de tyen ah, she still felt giddy. Wanting to hold on to that feeling, bask in it while she was able, Inara slid her hand under the sheet, reached around his torso and stroked a single, slender finger down his spine. She waited, wondering whether he'd stir. The man hadn't exactly gotten much sleep that night. Feeling distinctly mischievous--she'd never have been so bold with a client--Inara repeated the gesture. He snagged her wrist, fingers encircling bone so fast she jumped.

Mal groaned, murmured something that sounded suspiciously like 'sex kitten' and tugged her back spoon-style against his chest. He slid one arm under her neck, nuzzled his face into the curve of her throat.

"I do believe you're tryin' to kill me," he murmured. His free hand stroked lazily over her belly.

Warm male flesh. She felt him press against her with increasing urgency. Ai ya, he was cuddly when he woke. She hadn't forgotten that so much as put out of her head. Now she welcomed it, reveled in the intimate early morning touching. She reached around to cup the back of his head, felt his lips encircle her earlobe. He nibbled at the delicate flesh, breathed gentle puffs of air until she shuddered against him. Deliberately, she shifted her body, creating a pain fully-pleasant friction between her bottom and his hips.

"Oh, tyen shiao duh..." Spreading a wide palm over her abdomen, he anchored her against him. "You are pure evil, woman."

"Too much for you, sweetie?" she asked innocently. He was right--pet names could be fun.

"Baby, you ain't hardly seen nothin'." His fingers kept up their slow and torturous exploration. He cupped her breast in his palm, stroking the nipple between two fingers. She dug her hands into the sheets, squeezing so she wouldn't writhe against him. He let his fingers dip lower, slide over her rib cage and down into the region between her legs.

She caught her breath on a gasp, had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering. His touch felt feather-light at first, a single fingertip barely making contact with flesh. Then it was two, petting and stroking, slipping in an out, surprising, arousing. She felt the tension intensify, heard herself moan softly.

"Inara." He had the need to say her name, taste its shape on his lips. "I love makin' you feel this way. I love knowin' I can."

He slid inside her then, used his hand to guide himself. He made love to her from behind, his legs brushing the backs of hers with every stroke, his fingers slipping between her thighs to tease, push her higher. He felt her shiver, overwhelmed by the sensations, and nearly lost control his own self. He pressed his face into the heaviness of her hair and rocked against her, his caresses unrelenting. He felt her tighten around him as the climax rolled over her in waves. In a spontaneous gesture, he grabbed her hand, laced his fingers through hers, finding serenity in her hold. He fell back to sleep that way, utterly destroyed.

She woke an hour later, curled in his arms like a security blanket.

"Nara?"

"Hmm?"

"You, uh...you feel like havin' a date?"

---

Kaylee and Simon made up; that much was clear. The doc was feeding his new bride bits of cinnamon bread whilst Jayne rolled his eyes in disgust. But this morning their saccharine breakfast display didn't bother him overmuch. He felt sorta syrupy his own self.

"Mornin'."

"Hey, Cap'n," Kaylee called cheerily.

"Sir," Zoe said, nodding shortly.

Jayne just nodded, sorta hesitant-like.

"Good morning, Mal." Inara met his gaze over her tea cup, eyes almost shy.

"Sleep well, Captain?" Simon asked, tone only mildly snarky.

"That I did, Doctor." Even Simon couldn't get a rise out of him this morning. He strolled over to Inara's chair, bent down and kissed her on the cheek.

"Look nice today," he said lightly. "New blouse-y thing?"

"I...um." Inara realized she wasn't saying anything, closed her mouth.

Mal noticed the others gaping.

"Chew," he reminded Kaylee, who had a mouthful of toast.

"Cap'n, you eat today? You actin' a little lightheaded."

"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout, Zoe. I'm right as rain."

"Simon, 'haps you should do a physical," Kaylee suggested.

"I do have some time this afternoon," Simon offered.

"You're all hilarious. Truly, I got me a gorramn funny crew."

"Cap'n...we don't mean nothin' by it." Kaylee smiled. "Just that you're actin' a little...loopy."

"Hell, he's actin' like Kaylee," Jayne muttered.

"What about you?" Mal looked at Inara. "You think I'm crazed?"

"Not crazy so much as...happy."

"Is a little out of character, Sir," Zoe admitted.

"I ain't allowed to be in a good mood? Kiss my own girlfriend good-mornin'?"

Inara choked on her tea. She and Kaylee exchanged a single, blatant glance. Girlfriend? Their eyes conveyed their disbelief.

"Really, Captain." Zoe shook her head with mock severity. "You're scarin' the crew."

"I'm just tired of game-playin'. And ain't like the lot of you didn't already know Inara and me was...was fighting less often."

"You and Simon fightin' less too," Jayne commented. "He your girlfriend now?"

"Well, I for one think it's shiny," Kaylee said, clearly pleased. "Nice to see you finally puttin' all that burnin' sexual tension to good use."

"Uh huh. Way it is is the way it is." He rested a hand on Inara's shoulder. "Surely ain't nothin' to be 'shamed of."

Amused, Inara raised a delicate brow, touched a hand to Mal's wrist.

"Kiss me for real, Mal," she requested.

He swallowed, looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Like...in front of them?"

---

Jayne hesitated at the entryway to the bridge, cleared his throat.

"Uh, Mal?"

"Yeah?"

The captain turned from the cortex, clearly not thrilled by the interruption.

"Was hopin' you and me could have words."

"Don't exactly got a bucket of time just now, Jayne. Be settin' down at the post station come morning."

"Just pickin' up packages, ain't we?"

"Generally, that's what goes on in such establishments."

"Well, then, ain't like we're plannin' some brilliant caper. Alls I'm askin' for's five minutes."

Resigned, Mal turned, folded his arms across his chest.

"Speak your piece."

Jayne glanced at River's chair, empty as always. He forced his gaze back to the captain.

"Mal, I know you and I ain't great war buddies or some such. Didn't pull bullets out of each other's asses in Serenity Valley or share stories with ribcages and exploding produce. And I know our relationship started out a little on the rocky side."

"You were tryin' to kill me, Jayne."

"That's what I meant by rocky. Listen, Mal--"

"Jayne, I do got things need attending. Could we make our best friends' scrapbook later maybehaps?"

"Gorrammit, Mal. I'm tryin' to talk to you, man to man. I got something to say."

"What is it, Jayne? Don't believe I got any more relatives for you to take to bed with? Gonna start in on the crew?"

"Well, thanks, Mal. You all but painted my point. Maybe we ain't never been close, not like you and Zoe or you and Kaylee or even that humped-up relationship you got with the doc. But I did think us friendly-like. If'n I wanted a game of horseshoes or a relaxin' brew, thought I could count on my pal Mal for conversation. But ever since it came out 'bout me and your sister, you're actin' like I don't exist. Hell, Mal, if you wanna take a punch at me, figure I don't got rights to stop ya. But ain't kosher-like, you pretendin' I ain't even here."

"Jayne." Mal shook his head, the anger building. "How exactly did you envision our relationship changing when you took my sister into your bed? You figure I'd slap you on the back, say 'welcome to the family' or some such? Ai ya--is that what you thought, Jayne?"

"Well, ain't that how it was with the doc?"

"Jayne." Mal lowered his voice, knew if he didn't the whole gorramn crew'd be up here in a minute. "You keep some of that Everlift stashed away? Because your brain seems to be on a bank holiday. In what mother-humping 'verse are Simon and I the best of bosom buddies? Also, point of interest, Kaylee ain't my sister."

"Bullshit, Mal. Lil' Kaylee's as much kin to you as Carly, and you know it. Don't see much difference 'twixt sexin' this sister or that. Leads me to believe the part that really grinds on you is that it's me doin' the sexin'. So, if you wanna hit me, hit me; sure I got it comin' one reason or 'nother. Just quit treatin' me like I'm dead to ya. Got enough corpses on this ship, if you read me."

Both men glanced at River's chair, empty as Wash's now.

"You wanna know what the difference is, Jayne?" When Mal spoke, his tone was low, deadly. "Difference is the doctor loves that little girl. He don't always say it in human language, but it's evident in everything he does. He loves her sumthin' fierce, and I do believe he'd die for her. Would you see fit to die for my sister, Jayne? You got those sorta feelings for her? Or is she just a convenience?"

Mal shook his head at Jayne's silence.

"That's what I thought." He moved past Jayne, started down the stairs.

"You're a gorramn hypocrite, Mal." Jayne's voice followed him down the steps.

Mal hesitated, one hand resting on the rail.

"You tell Inara you love her yet? Or did you tell her the truth, admit that the part of you capable of actual feeling died in a ruttin' trench. You gonna tell her that, Mal?"

---

The bazaar was loud and garish, just as Mal remembered. Jayne snatched the little chick from Zoe's arms, muttered somethin' 'bout her bein' the best company in the bunch and wandered off into the crowd. Zoe just shrugged, let Caroline lead her away in search of baby clothes.

Mal slipped his hand through Inara's, pleased when she squeezed back.

"Might wanna stay by my side, darlin'. Man with the megaphone seems to think there's aliens about."

"Aren't we the aliens? After all, this isn't our world. None of these world are our own, at least not originally."

"Well, yeah. 'Cept aliens are scaly things eat Reese's Pieces and pop outta a man's stomach singin' showtunes."

"You and Simon have to stop falling asleep in front of the cortex." She smiled affectionately. "All those old sci fi waves are going to your head."

"Simon! Look." Kaylee's voice, close behind. "They're holding hands!"

"Kaylee, I'm thinkin' on mailin' you to Londinium in a crate," Mal mused thoughtfully. "She's just a bitty thing, can't cost much to post."

"And here I thought it was all that tension makin' you ornery," Kaylee said, shaking her head.

"Nope, I'm ornery all on my own," Mal assured.

Kaylee rolled her eyes.

"C'mon, Simon. Buy your new bride an ice planet. See ya, Nara."

"Be back by rendezvous," Mal called after her.

"It would seem the honeymoon isn't over yet," Inara observed, watching Kaylee snuggle into Simon's chest as he dug out coin for a chocolate-covered strawberry.

"Yeah, makes me all toasty inside." Mal waved as a familiar face came into view. "Amnon, what's the news?"

"Malcom Reynolds." Amnon hurried over, took Mal's hand in his and pumped. "Young man, it is an honor to handle your post."

Mal glanced at Inara, wondering if she were in on the joke.

"Hey, Amnon, I'm mighty apologetic 'bout that whole corpse situation. Hear you got in a peck of trouble over that. You got my word won't happen again."

The older man shrugged as though the matter was of no importance.

"Malcom. Captain. You are a great man."

"Yeah, I got my moments. I know the lady here would like me better if'n you got a package with her clothes back there."

"Miss Serra, correct? Here it is, To Inara Serra, care of Malcom Reynolds." He indicated a largish box in the stack. "You must feel very safe, my dear, in such a man's care."

"I--he has a lot of guns," she agreed innocently.

"How much do I owe ya, Amnon?"

"Oh, Mr. Reynolds! I cannot take your money."

"Sure you can." Mal reached for his billfold. "Everybody else does."

"Mal, may I..." Inara decided he was otherwise engaged, reached into the front pocket of his trousers for the switchblade. He jumped a little at the feel of her fingers, raised a brow. She just smiled, knelt to open the long-awaited package.

"Mr. Reynolds, word of your mitzvah is far-reaching, spreading even to my humble township."

"You heard about my...mitzvah?"

"The world--all worlds--needed to see that recording." He lowered his voice, met Mal's eyes. "People need to understand the evils of unchecked government."

"They understand," Mal said quietly. "They just don't comprehend." Wo de ma, he was starting to sound an awful lot like his albatross. Ai ya, River, where are you?

"You're too humble, Malcom. People on worlds you never heard tell of are chanting your name."

"People who worship, be it Gods or idols, tend to spend a whole hell of a long time waiting. Ain't nobody to save folk save themselves. The sooner they learn that, the better off they'll be." He felt Inara touch his leg, released the breath he was holding unaware. "Think I feel like one of those ice planets after all. You want one, Nara?"

"I'm with River; those things are impossible." Inara stood, returned Mal's knife. "Perhaps you should take this along. In case you run into any old friends." She smiled sweetly.

"If the aliens take you, don't count on me for a rescue." But he tucked the knife back in his pocket. "Don't wander off now, cupcake."

She rolled her eyes, turned back to her package. Sundries, Mal would call them. But, oh, it was good to have them back. She'd only left a few items with Ginny, some personal effects she couldn't store in her tiny room in town. A necklace that belonged to her mother, some gowns she had little use for as a dance teacher. She fingered a long sweep of a skirt in apricot silk, let her hands linger over a beaded corset. And beneath it all--lingerie. A little ornate, perhaps, but clean and new and just her size. She trailed a loving finger over a push-up bra, nearly sighed.

"Miss Serra?" Amnon handed her his clipboard, indicated that she should sign for the remainder of the packages. "I fear I've upset him. It wasn't my intent."

"Mal's just..." She sighed. "He doesn't like when people expect something of him. He's afraid he'll have to deliver."

"He's a born leader," Amnon remarked.

"Yes. Yes, I imagine that's his problem."

---

Zoe let Caroline nudge her from booth to booth, lingering over miniature dresses in pink and white taffeta, tiny patent leather shoes with shiny silver buckles. Caroline held up a pair of baby-sized underwear with ruffles on the butt, and Zoe smiled. She wasn't one for frill and flounce, but she could see Wash coming home with that sort of thing. He'd enjoy envisioning his girl a little princess. A good daddy, her mister would have been.

"Dung ee-miao." Mal appeared between them, a dripping ice planet in one hand. He handed the oversized globe to Zoe, lay a friendly arm over his sister's shoulder. "Carly, just what does my two-month-old niece need with froofy undies?"

"Wait and see, Brother." Caroline smiled. "She'll grow up so fast your head'll spin."

"No boys till she's thirty. We're makin' that rule right?" He looked to Zoe for support.

She bit her lip to hide a smile.

"Whatever lets you sleep nights, Sir." She wandered off to look at winter coats, taking Mal's ice planet with her.

"Hey!" he protested, but he wasn't too perturbed. Ruttin' things were hard to eat. "Listen, Carly. 'Haps you and me could speak on some things."

"If this is about Ella..."

"No, no, ain't about her."

"That's good. I'm well aware Zoe's little girl ain't mine."

"You don't tell me how to handle my ghosts, for the most part. 'Spect I owe you the same courtesy."

She kissed his cheek the way she'd seen Kaylee do it: an affection he usually tolerated. He allowed it, but she could tell he was unaccustomed to such displays from anyone but the little mechanic.

"Maybehaps you and me shoulda talked this out sooner." He lifted a miniscule green and white striped ski cap, shook his head worriedly. Ai ya, little chick would be needin' a lot. "Guess I couldn't quite locate the words. I know what that farm meant to you."

Caroline took the ski cap from his hands, gave it to the watching merchant with a few coins for payment.

"It was just a house, Malcom. Walls and a roof."

"Was more than that, and you know it."

"The house wasn't my ship, Brother. My Serenity wasn't so tangible."

"You had a life there. You belonged."

"Does Zoe let you throw these little pity parties? Woe is Mal and everyone he touches. I can't imagine Inara puts up with that go suh."

"Caroline...you just swore."

"Bi zui, Malcom. This is tiresome. And insulting. I made a choice after that godforsaken war." After the Alliance killed her husband, took her baby girl. "I made it my life's aim to assist the Independent movement, used John's good name to keep me in good standing with the Alliance. It was risky work, but I put my faith in Jesus, trusted him to show me the way. And he did."

"Maybe he leads you around with a light stick, but I'm still wandering in the dark."

"You like it that way, Mal. Never would let yourself be led."

"I never intended to be nobody's savior, Carly. Saw something that had to be done on Miranda, and was the only one around to do it. Ain't more or less."

"Whether Jesus lights our path or we just stumble upon it, the choice to act, or not, is still our own. You keep making that choice, than cursing the God who gave you free will."

"You know, Caroline, it's a tragedy you didn't meet up with us sooner," he muttered caustically. "I know a certain Shepard woulda loved you to bits."

"Malcom." Her voice softened. "You came out of that war alive. You could have a life now, make babies with that girl, teach them to fly. You could be happy."

"I am trying, Carly," he said quietly.

She smiled sadly.

"I know you are. And Zoe's little girl helps, doesn't she? She's light in the darkness."

"She's gonna be spoiled rotten is what she is," he commented, observing the growing pile of baby clothes on his sister's arm. "You been a real help, you know. All the crew likes you fine. You could find a place here, if it suits you."

Caroline smiled, watched her brother rifle through a bin of plastic dinosaurs and select three at random. Both Jayne and Kaylee had stopped by the same bin. That little girl would have a dinosaur army by day's end.

"Malcom, I'm not you. I need grass, sunlight. I know the Black soothes you, but it makes me antsy. I'll be getting back to the world soon as I choose one."

Mal nodded, surprised at his own disappointment. Was sorta nice-like havin' his sister aboard.

"And Jayne? Thought you two were, uh..."

She shrugged.

"I owe Jayne a debt of gratitude. I'd forgotten I could feel that way, feel so alive and--"

"I get it." Mal held up a hand. "Don't need the gory details."

"Still, he isn't really mine." Caroline smiled wistfully. "He belongs to another."

---

He found her in her bunk, adding to her wardrobe with obvious pleasure. Pretty soon her fancy duds would overflow Kaylee's narrow closet space. He had a sinking sensation of where they'd end up next.

"So what are the chances of me gettin' any o' your attention now that you got your sundries back?"

"Mm, very slim," she teased.

"Yep, figured as much." He cleared his throat. "Just wanted to tell you we're headed for Bellerophon again. That friend of mine--Mayella? She's got a package needs deliverin'. Offerin' a fair rate if we drop it down. Shouldn't be stopped more 'n a couple hours."

Inara straightened, dangled an intricately-beaded gold corset under Mal's nose. "What do you think of this?"

"Depends. What part do you wear it on?"

She smiled, selected a black silk and lace nightie instead and held it up for his approval.

"Sweet Ye Su. This...this is a damn good game."

"I might be persuaded to try it on--if you help me with the zipper."

"Wo de ma, do I wanna help ya with that zipper. There's just a few things I gotta do first."

She stood on tip toe, leaned in so her body brushed the length of him.

"You're a busy man," she agreed, kissing him softly. "I'm sure you have many tasks that need doing."

"Surely I do." He tilted his head, allowing her better access to his neck. She pressed gentle kisses to his flesh, breathed warm air over the wet. "Ai ya, I'm gonna be mayor of the special hell." He lifted her up and carried her to the bed, sank them both down into the pillows.

"I can't think when we're together this way." He hovered above her. "I forget how."

"I know," she assured. "I feel it too."

"There's so much to be done, and I ain't talkin' 'bout that milk run on Bellerophon tomorrow. We've all of us got a ways to travel."

"But you needn't make the journey in one night. Rest now. Just enjoy yourself."

"Inara." He looked embarrassed. "That ain't in my nature."

"Well, then...you're fortunate it's in my nature to show you the way." She stretched up her hand, stroked his face. "Close your eyes."

He lay with his head between her breasts, let her smooth his hair.

---

In the cargo bay, Mal strapped on his holster, made sure his weapon was secure.

"You ready, Zoe?"

"I ain't goin', Sir."

"I'm sorry, did I give you the day off?"

"Raven's sick."

Mal felt something in his chest tighten, recognized the sensation as worry and fought the urge to go find his little chick.

"She okay? Simon look at her? Doctor!" He started toward the infirmary. "Ai ya, where the hell's the doc?"

"Just a low-grade fever, Captain. The Doctor gave her some meds to bring it down. Still, think its best if I stay on ship today."

"She need anythin' in town? Orange juice? Soup?"

"She's a baby, Sir," Zoe explained patiently. "Doesn't eat soup."

"Right. No soup. What about one of those fuzzy animals she likes? I could get her one of those."

"I'd rather you didn't, Captain. My bunk's beginning to look like a toy store."

"Hmm," he said distractedly, looking over Zoe's shoulder as though he could see the little girl, asleep in the infirmary.

"Sir?" Zoe smiled, amused by him. "Don't you have a job waitin'?"

"Yes I do," Mal agreed. "Tell Jayne he's comin' with. If Kaylee still intends to ride in for supplies, she best get a move on. Mule leaves in ten, and I ain't waiting for stragglers."

---

Mal flew the mule toward town, gliding over sunswept hills, fields heavy with their summer crop. He didn't want to be here.

Bellerophon and the Reaver attack that wasn't now held a single, searing significance: the breakdown of something undefinable in River Tam's brain. What did it mean for a psychic to be wrong? Was something crumbling on the inside, something even the doctor with all his fancy schooling couldn't understand well enough to repair? Kind of experimenting the Alliance subjected her to--no one knew the long term effects of such torture. Did they take too much, impart irrevocable harm with their meddling? Inara was right; River was no child. But she was a part of his crew, and that made him responsible for her. Ever since he discovered her hidden away in that box, curled fetal, sick, sleeping, she was his in every way that counted. She wasn't a child anymore, but she was his to protect. And so far, he'd failed miserably at keeping her safe. But that was why he was here, back on Bellerophon to deliver Mayella's supplies. This job--every job--brought him a few coins closer to finding his albatross. Malcom Reynolds learned early on that most men understand the language of platinum. If he had to, he'd buy the witch back.

They were nearing the town common. Mal parked in the lot this time, preferring to avoid a run-in with his favorite sheriff. He hopped down, reached up to help Kaylee.

"Stick to the general store yonder, we ain't gonna be here long enough for browsin'."

"Yes, Daddy." She rolled her eyes, peeled down the top of her coveralls to reveal a pink belly-baring top.

"Okay, you and Nara really gotta stop that Daddy business." He helped Jayne hoist Mayella's package off the mule. "It's all manner of disturbing."

Kaylee grinned, reveling in the sticky summer heat.

"Nara calls you Daddy?"

"Get lost. Pick up some duct tape while you're at it. Gotta do somethin' 'bout that mouth," he muttered.

"That'd be Mayella." Jayne noted, squinted off into the distance.

"Good, I ain't lookin' to hang around here all day. Why don't you give Kaylee a hand with the groceries?"

"Sure you can handle this?" Jayne asked.

They watched Mayella pull up in her rider. Her hair was loose today; the humidity had it sticking to her face.

"Malcom!" She shrieked and started toward him. "Twice in one month, ain't I just the luckiest lady this side of the 'verse?"

"Oh, think I'll manage," Mal muttered under his breath. "Mayella! How's your world?"

"A whole heck of a lot better now that you're here." She kissed him on the lips, pulled back to cup his face in her hands. "You look tired. Bet you could use an afternoon of rest and wellness and Mayella's Sweet Leaf Spa."

"One of these days, I'm surely gonna take you up on that."

"But not today," she said poutily.

"Well, we got another appointment after this one, see. You know how it is: work, work, work."

"Good works. These supplies...they mean so much to--"

"Mayella." His eyes were soft. "Ain't askin' for details."

"Right." She smiled. "My daddy misses you. He and Ma would love you to stop in for dinner one o'these days."

"One of these days," Mal agreed. "How's Webber's wife and kid--they gettin' on alright?" A warm, muggy wind played through his hair. He glanced toward the general store, hoping Kaylee was nearly through. He wanted to be back on Serenity before the rain came.

"My sister-in-law is a strong woman. She'll hold."

"He loved them somethin' fierce, would talk your ear off 'bout that little boy of his."

"That sounds like my brother." She smiled. "You take care of yourself, handsome. And thanks for the package. Hard as hell gettin' post out here."

"Any time, Mayella." He accepted the coin bag she pressed into his hand. "You get on home now. Looks ready to storm, and someone sweet as you is sure to melt."

---

Three world away, River Tam woke sweating. She slipped out of bed, hurried barefoot into Gideon's room.

He opened his eyes to see her hovering above him, dark hair plastered to her face, worry lines marring her forehead. She often came to him when she couldn't sleep, never seeking physical comfort after that first time. He suspected that had been more for his benefit than hers. Perhaps she was curious, attracted to him on some cursory level. But she seemed to know he was aching, needing release. She knew too damn much.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, sitting up.

"He went back. He thought she was broken!"

"Not she," he reminded kindly. He rubbed gentle circles on her back, accustomed by now to her nightmares.

"Me," River admitted. "Thinks I'm broken. Brain isn't defective, just different. New bits, hard to sort out. See more now, see farther. Oh, she doesn't want to see things so soon!"

"Who thinks you're broken? Captain Reynolds?"

"Went back to Sweet Leaf, Bellerophon. Arrived in time for a massacre." She was laughing now, her throat choked with sobs. " 'The many men, so beautiful/

And they all dead did lie/ And a thousand thousand slimy things/ Lived on; and so did I.'"

"Serenity's back on Bellerophon." Gideon pushed River's hair from her eyes, tried to make her look at him. "Reavers?"

River looked frightened.

"Not yet."

---

"Kaylee, are these sugar O's? Gorrammit, what did I tell you 'bout buyin' that go suh?"

"That you like the marshmallow kind better. I'm sorry, Cap'n, they was all out. But..." She held up the back of the box, triumphant-like. "This one comes with a mini lassiter."

"Does it work?" Jayne asked, intrigued, trying to grab the box from Kaylee.

"Yeah, Jayne, they's gonna give little kids workin' weapons with their breakfast cereal."

"That's Blue Sun brand, ain't it? Those people ain't right. I'm a criminal, sure, but even I got my limits. I'll steal and kill and all that, but Blue Sun workers--"

"Sheriff!" Mal sent Jayne a warning glare, nodded at the law man. "Hot today, huh?"

"I remember you."

"Really? 'Cuz I think I got one of those faces."

"You were here few weeks back with your new bride. Pretty thing, 'bout yay high."

"Right! Two weeks ago. Those were good times. Anyway, Sheriff, what can I do you for? My double parked or somethin'?"

"You're Malcom Reynolds, correct?"

"You know, some days I wish I wasn't."

"My boys saw your ship land few miles west o' here. Firefly transport Serenity. Heap of luh suh, if ever I saw one."

"You wish you had a ship that shiny!" Kaylee declared, always quick to defend her baby.

"Shut up, Kaylee. You got some cargo to move?" Mal asked hopefully.

"Three prisoners. I'll likely find me some more when I search your ship."

"Oh, now, wait a minute," Mal protested. "What are the charges?"

"Someone's smuggling cargo to the underground movement here. Ship parts, weapons. I've authority from Bellerophon City to search every suspicious transport vessel that docks."

"You're makin' a mistake, Officer. My operation's clean."

"Hope that's true, son. In the mean time, you won't mind sittin' with me a few hours, give my boys time to do their job."

The Sheriff's office was a dusty and antiquated structure set next to the general store. The lawman ushered them inside, motioned that they should sit on the bench for processing.

"Cap'n?" Kaylee leaned close to his ear.

"What is it, Kaylee?"

"I ain't never been arrested before."

He snorted.

"Well, lucky for you, your first time's with a couple pros."

"Ain't funny, Cap'n. I'm married now. Gotta be actin' respectible-like."

"Doctor Fancy Pants ain't exactly one to talk, being a fugitive and all," Jayne muttered.

"What's wrong with Simon's pants?" Kaylee demanded. "Ain't even tight like the cap'n's, and you all gotta be teasin' him merciless--"

"You think my pants are too tight? Did Inara say something?"

"They're glorious, okay, Mal? Can we get to the plannin' part already? I wanna kill the sheriff and get the good gorramn outta here."

"You're gonna kill him?" Kaylee frowned. "That don't seem right, Cap'n. He's just doin' his job. And he seems real young, hardly more than a baby."

"Hell, why don't we just invite him on board? I mean, if Kaylee thinks he's swai..."

"Can you two shut up for ten seconds?" Mal requested. A man couldn't think straight with all that racket. The next he heard was bloodcurdling screams.

Mal and Jayne exchanged rapid glances, raced outside with the sheriff close behind.

He only saw four. Mal took comfort in that knowledge as he shoved the others back inside, pulled the door closed behind them all.

"Sweet Jesus," the sheriff murmured, watching through the window.

"Gorrammit, Mal, let's go for the mule." Jayne's voice was a plea. "I don't wanna stay here."

"We'd never make it. Mule's clear across the common."

"Oh, God." Kaylee wrapped her arms around her shoulders, unable to cut off the tears welling in her eyes. "We're all gonna die, ain't we?"

"Over my dead body," Jayne said fiercely.

Mal would have laughed, but his eyes were on Kaylee, shaking like a frightened animal.

She pulled away from Jayne's touch, went back to the bench.

"They won't never stop, won't show no mercy. Oh, Simon, we never even got a proper honeymoon."

"Jayne, you and Sheriff Short-Pants block the door."

"I'm going out there." The lawman loaded his gun, clicked off the safety. "This is still my town."

"You ever seen a Reaver attack before, son?" Mal asked quietly.

"The town was hit when I was a boy. I-I've heard stories."

"I guarantee you, this is worse than a story."

Mal left the lawman to contemplate that, crossed the room swiftly and grabbed Kaylee by the shoulders.

"Kaylee." He forced her to meet his eyes. "I need you to hold together awhile longer, mei mei."

"Cap'n." She touched his face softly. "You'll shoot me first, won't you? If it comes to that, you'll shoot me 'fore they--"

"Jesus, Kaylee." He forced himself to swallow, to breathe. "We ain't givin' up just yet, you hear me? That's bullet proof glass, ain't it?"

She followed his gaze to the jail cell in the back room.

"Y-yes. I'd guess so."

"What would it take for them to break it?"

"I-I don't know. You'd need special tools, ones with diamond tips. Or could freeze the whole sheet." She stopped sniffling, her brain going into mechanic-mode.

"But axes and pistols won't make a dent?"

"Shouldn't."

Mal nodded.

"Good girl."

---


	11. Chapter 11

---

Kaylee sat back against the concrete, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Sheriff ain't come back yet," she said quietly. "Been gone an awful long time."

"That don't mean nothin'," Mal assured. "Don't you think too hard on him."

"They're all through with the cantina. Looks like they arrived in time for the lunch crowd." Jayne released the bars, dropped down from the narrow box window. "Common's awful quiet now."

Mal paced back and forth behind the sheet of glass separating them from imminent death. He pressed a hand to the wall, imagining how the polycarbonate would stretch and flex, protecting them when the bullets started to fly. They'd try with guns first, then hack at the glass with their axes. He was putting a lot of faith on their preference for raw meat; if they got fed up and torched the place, it was all over.

"Serenity." He held the transmitter below his mouth. "This is your gorramn captain callin', somebody pick the hell up."

"Captain?"

Simon's voice, surprise edging toward concern. But the two syllables made it clear. Mal knew they hadn't seen the Reaver ship break atmo. They were still alive. That was something.

Kaylee heard the doctor as well.

"Simon," she said softly.

He held up a finger, motioning for her to wait.

"Doc, I need you to get Zoe. Then I wanna talk to the both of you."

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"Zoe first. That's an order, Doctor."

"Dammit, Mal." He heard the 'com clatter to the console followed by the sound of footsteps on metal. The next voice to ring through was Zoe's, clear and calm and ready for instruction.

"Sir?"

"Zoe, I need you to do something for me. You lock down Serenity and stay hid. No one leaves that boat."

He heard Kaylee gasp, compelled his tone to be steely, unwavering.

"You hear me, Zoe?"

Silence. Then:

"Reavers, Sir?"

"Small raiding party from the looks of it. Can't be sure."

"Where are you?"

"This ain't a discussion, Zoe. You're gonna keep outta sight, keep my niece and my crew safe. Dong ma?"

Jayne met Mal's eyes, his own approving.

"We're just gonna leave you, Sir?"

"I'm not abandoning Kaylee. There's no way in the 'verse."

"Simon," Kaylee whispered. "Oh, God."

"You're gonna do just what I said, Doctor. I'll take care of your wife."

"Like you did my sister?"

Mal drew in a slow, deliberate breath, lifted the 'com to his lips.

"I gave you an order, son. Lest you wanna test those newfound fightin' skills, I do suggest you obey it. "

"Everyone's so mad," Kaylee whispered. Jayne patted her shoulder awkwardly.

"What's going on?" Inara's voice, confused. "You'll wake the baby with all this shouting."

Mal heard Zoe murmur something to Inara, who gasped. He forced himself not to imagine the look of fear in those wide brown eyes. If he died today, he preferred to remember those eyes warm with affection, lit with only half-affected frustration, slitted with desire.

"Zoe, you power her down, even the lights. Doc, I need you to lock up the cargo bay and--"

"He's gone, Mal," Inara said softly.

Mal hesitated, glanced at Kaylee. He cursed silently.

"Where'd he go?"

"Dunno, Sir."

"You find him," Mal said fiercely. "Then you stay hid till you hear from me. That's an order."

He pressed the button to kill the connection, returned the 'com to his pocket and set back to wait.

---

Inara found him in the infirmary, bent over his desk.

"Simon?"

He jumped, nearly smacked his head on the lamp.

"Inara. You startled me."

"Shuh muh. I--" It was then she noticed the guns, two she recognized as Jayne's and one she didn't, strapped to the doctor's hip. "What are you doing?"

He glanced anxiously at the door, led Inara by the wrist.

He had a rainbow of pills spread over the surface of the desk.

"These are very good. They'll work in under ten minutes, and...well, it's fairly pleasant. Like floating. You won't feel..." His voice trailed off at the end, his eyes sad. "Two should do it, but take three if you can't wait. I've laid out enough for you, Zoe and Caroline."

Inara stared dully at the capsules. She wasn't afraid of death, but that didn't mean she welcomed it. She hadn't awoke this morning expecting to die, alone on Bellerophon. She hadn't even said goodbye. Suddenly she blinked, awareness dawning. He was going ride into town. He'd save Kaylee or die trying. And the dark place in Inara's heart knew it would be the latter.

"Mal will kill you. If there's anything left to kill. If the Reavers don't eat you alive."

"She needs me. Mal needs help too, even if he'd never admit it."

"And you think you can help him?" She grabbed his wrist, tried to make him look at her. "Simon, there could be a dozen Reavers in that town. Do you think your wife wants to watch you die? Do you think Kaylee could bear that?"

"She'll see me fighting for her. Even if it's the last thing she sees." The last he said quietly, brokenly.

"This is a dangerous path. You're changing, Simon, forever and irrevocably."

"I'm not letting another person I love slip through my fingers. Mal can go to hell if he doesn't like it."

He saw the fear in her eyes, something like understanding, something like pity.

"Inara, I'm sorry." He placed an awkward hand on her waist, leaned in and kissed her temple. "I hate to leave you like this. You shouldn't have to..." He sighed, lifted a narrow box from the tabletop and pressed it into her hand.

"What's this?" She removed the lid, stared down at the syringe of silvery liquid.

"For Raven. She's too little to swallow pills." He thought of the sweet little girl he'd become so fond of these past months. "I'm not sure that Zoe could...I know you'll take care of it, Inara."

Inara brought a hand to her lips as though she might be sick. He ushered her over to the sink, held back her hair as she retched into the basin.

"I'm sorry," he said helplessly when she was through. He handed her a paper cup of water. "When I entered the med academy, I thought it was so I could spend my life helping people, making them better. I never imagined my life would be this."

"If you see Mal," she managed, face damp, eyes glassy. "Tell him I...that I..."

"Even the captain's not that blind, Inara." Simon patted one clammy hand. "But I'll tell him."

He left her alone in the infirmary, which was where Zoe found her twenty minutes later.

---

The sheriff was back. Parts of him were back. Two held him on the cold stone floor, doing things. Mal didn't have words for such things. Two more paced before the small cell, growling, groaning. One flung himself against the glass, mouth foaming, teeth grinding and gnashing. Kaylee shrieked then, stumbled back into Jayne and screamed again when he caught her. Jayne shrugged helplessly at Mal, squeezed Kaylee in what passed for a backwards hug.

The sheriff made a sound like a whimper, and Mal moaned silently. He'd hoped the poor hwoon dan dead by now. Every time he cried out, Mal had to watch Kaylee's face contort. He didn't think he could bare that much longer. Still, selfishly, he knew that the Reavers would try even harder to bust out the rest of them when they no longer had the lawman to occupy their attentions. The sheriff didn't know it, but he was buying them precious time.

"You think the others is okay?" Jayne asked, eyes on the atrocity occurring outside their cell. He thought of Caroline, the last time she'd visited his bed. Yards of soft brown hair, surrounding him like she did as they coupled. She deserved a better death. Hell, she deserved a better man. He thought of Raven too. Little one hadn't even got to see life hardly. Babe shouldn't have to look on this part of it so soon. What kinda God would let innocent folk suffer this way? That's what he'd have asked Shepherd Book. If God hadn't gone and took the Shepherd.

"They're fine, Jayne," Mal said shortly. "Gorrrammit, Kaylee. Turn away."

"Won't help, Cap'n." She looked like River than, privy to far more than was just and proper. "Can still hear 'em."

Mal glanced at Jayne who nodded slowly.

"C'mere, Lil' Kaylee," he said softly. He opened his arms, tugged her against his chest.

"Ain't your fault I'm seein' this, Cap'n," she said softly, rubbing his back through his shirt. "You don't gotta be protectin' me always."

"Can't help but try," he murmured. He ran his hand up her back, found a spot near her neck and pressed firmly. He felt her small figure go slack against his chest, lowered her gently to the cold floor.

"You just sleep now, sweetheart," he said quietly. "If there's a god, he won't let you dream on this." He watched with surprise as Jayne slipped off his coat, lay it over her torso before moving toward the glass.

"I do wish we could put that poor sumbitch outta his misery."

"That'd be a bit o' mercy," Mal agreed.

"You know they'll come after us next."

"Expect that's so."

"Maybe I don't love her. But I do respect her, Mal. Don't treat her like no ruttin' whore."

Mal stared at Jayne a moment, shook his head disbelieving.

"You and Wash got a thing for deathbed confessions, don't ya now."

"Well, we might be dead later. Figured I best get this out now."

"Hence the deathbed confession," Mal said dryly.

"Look, Cap. I'd feel better 'bout us goin' to eternal unrest if I knew things was right betwixt you and me."

"Well, that's settled then. We're gonna live, Jayne. We're gonna live, 'cuz no way in hell 'm I spendin' eternity with the likes of you."

---

A single name slipped from River's lips, hung in the air of the helm like black smoke.

"Simon."

Gideon came up behind her, rested his hands on the back of her chair.

"How much longer till we land?"

"Couple hours." If she could just concentrate hard enough on her brother--maybe she could protect him, keep him safe until she could save him.

"The rest of the crew?"

"Alive."

"Will they stay that way?"

"Decomposing flesh." She looked at Gideon, saw him wince. "Human bodies are vulnerable to attack, old age. Easy to bruise and bleed and break."

"That's what Gray would do to us. If he knew we were helping the crew of Serenity."

"Can't take them all down this way." She stared out into the Black, brow furrowed. "Did the math."

"No, not all. But each means something, River." Each one they slew meant that someone, somewhere got to live.

"There's another way. Better way." She looked up at him sadly. "Hate seeing it so early."

Gideon tore his pale eyes away from her darker ones. She made him dizzy with that stare, that hypnotic, intoxicating way she had of disabling a man. He'd seen her turn those eyes on Captain Reynolds, wondered if Mal could feel her now, so far away. Had she tried to reach him, slip inside his head?

"Won't help," she said softly, eyes stinging with wet. "Trapped like animals. Lambs for the slaughter."

"We'll make it, River." She looked so very young, so innocent and yet not innocent at all. He'd have promised her anything in that moment. "Ai ya, River. I swear to you, we'll make it."

---

The Sheriff was dead. The Reavers pressed his broken body against the glass as evidence. Jayne looked one in the eye, let his gaze linger there till Mal murmured his name, shook his head fiercely.

"I need you, Jayne. Need you to stay sane, or what passes for such."

"Hell, Mal, I've looked into the eyes o' the beast before. Promise I won't lose my good and sweet nature o'er it."

"Won't find any answers there, Jayne." Mal traced the lines of the cell door with his eyes, searching for weak spots. "Man could go mad looking."

"I don't know 'bout you, Mal. But when I done and killed a man, I think, 'hell, it was him or me.' Don't go around weepin' after, but don't take much pleasure in it neither. Well, lest he was pissin' me off first. Mostly it's just the job--ain't more or less."

Outside the Reavers conversed briefly, turned and fired a rain of bullets at the glass. Both men jumped back, as though expecting to feel bits of metal bite into their flesh.

" 'Haps you could write all this down, Jayne. I'll be sure to read it when I ain't so distracted by pesky matters like our imminent deaths."

"You know what really twists in my gut, Cap'n? Don't even think they's enjoyin' themselves."

Mal glanced at Jayne sideways.

"That's a cryin' shame. Truly, I'm real broken up 'bout it."

"I'm serious, Mal. That big one--way he looks at me ain't the way I'd look at a steak dinner, if'n I was ever to see steak again. He's all muddled up inside, and you can tell it hurts him some."

Mal was thinkin' on that last remark when a hand slipped through the narrow barred window of the outer wall. He felt something tear through his arm before he dove on Kaylee, covered her with his body as bullets fell like hail.

---

Zoe smoothed a hand over Inara's hair, trying to comfort the captain's lover.

"I'm fine." Inara brushed at the corners of her eyes, ashamed by her own vulnerability. For a woman trained in masking her emotions, she was certainly betraying a great deal. "Truly, Zoe, I'm alright."

"You're thinkin' on goin' after him."

In truth, she was thinking about slapping him. And then she wanted him to hold her, feel his strong, calloused fingers lace through her more slender ones. When he held her, she felt at once sheltered and exposed. What kind of comfort could she find with a man like that? There'd never be much in the way of calm, just sharp, exhilarating edge. But wasn't that what drew her to him? When the barest brush of his fingers over her belly sent shockwaves through her system...wasn't that the miracle? She wanted to press her lips against his throat, feel the life pulsing there. She wanted him to live to come back to her.

Her eyes flickered over the carefully-laid-out pills, the loaded gun Simon left beside them.

"You can't save him, honey." Zoe tilted the younger woman's chin until their eyes met. She studied the girl, for she was hardly more than that, who'd compelled the captain to feel again. For her, Mal let himself want. "If you try, you'll lose him anyway."

"He's so gorramn stubborn."

Zoe raised a brow, lips curving.

"You been on this boat a couple years now, Nara. You really just figurin' that out?"

Inara smiled faintly.

"You've been together so long. How do you keep from throttling him?"

Zoe shrugged.

"I've come close a time or two. Always sort of a letdown since he ain't much for hittin' girls. Been awhile since I got a good fight out of him."

"And yet you've stayed on with him, all these years."

"I accept him for the man he is."

"I've seen too many versions of Mal to be sure."

"Oh, ain't so complicated. There's the man he thinks he is, the man he really is, and the one you want him to be. He ain't ever so bad as the first, and you'll likely never know the third. But that middle one ain't all that bad. And if anyone can draw the humanity from the cap'n, it's you. He cares with you, Inara. That's not nothin''."

"He thinks he's broken."

"And if you ask me, he's healing. But he needs to know he can trust you, that you'll obey."

"I never swore to obey him, Zoe." She never swore to obey anyone.

"And in the day to day, you don't have to obey. But on day's like today...he'll push you away before he watches you die, Inara. He knows that'd be more than he could bear"

"And what about me? I just have to wait for word?" Wait while Mal could be hurting, dying...

"Yes." Zoe slipped the gun in her holster. "If you wanna keep him."

Inara frowned, watched Zoe shove a canister of liquid bandage in her trouser pocket, a roll of gauze in the other. Her eyes widened.

"Zoe...Zoe, no."

"You're gonna stay here till I get back, dong ma? Take care of my baby girl for me?"

"You're her mother. She needs you, Zoe."

"Needs love. If I don't make it back, I know you can give her that."

"Ren ci de fo zu."

"I'm gonna bring him back to you, Nara. Gonna bring back Kaylee and the liou mahng doctor. Hell, I might even bring back Jayne."

---

The plexiglass buckled and bent, refusing to break under the Reaver assault. Kaylee was awake again, unpleasantly roused from sleep by Mal's shoving her beneath the wooden bench. She lay shivering on the cold stone floor, watching Mal and Jayne fire through the bars at long-nailed Reaver hands. Jayne shot off three fingers on one wild-eyed male before the Reaver dropped his ax. They wanted in, wanted meat. They wouldn't stop till they tasted the blood.

"Uh, Cap'n?" Jayne aimed through the window, clipping a female on the head before ducking down again. "Gettin' a little low on ammo here."

"Got a knife, don't ya."

"Well, yeah, but it's just a bitty thing. And they got axes!"

"Ain't that always the way," Mal said wryly.

Jayne shook his head.

"Okay, here goes the last round." He raised his hand to fire, felt Mal lower the pistol by the nose. He met Mal's eyes, saw the pointed look and handed over the gun.

"You hang on to this, Lil' Kaylee," Mal murmured, pressing the weapon into her hands, trying hard to ignore the way she whimpered. "That's my good girl."

"Well, now." Jayne slipped his knife from his boot, unsheathed its shiny length. "Let's see how these fellas fare without thumbs."

---

Simon located the town common without much trouble, flew the shuttle in for landing on the quiet green. A small raiding party, the captain had said. Simon hoped they'd opted to divide and conquer.

He strapped two of Jayne's more business-y guns over his shoulder, slid his own pistol--a new purchase--into the waistband of her pants. He started to reach for his med bag, changed his mind and left it. If Simon the Warrior had learned well enough, he could spare Dr. Tam the trouble. He wanted to save Kaylee before the damage was inflicted, before she once again lay bleeding on his table.

He started across the square in the direction of the gunplay.

Outside the ladies' dress shop, two Reavers held a screaming shopgirl by the arms. Simon aimed the gun, shot them both dead. He raised his sunglasses to assess the girl's condition. Her neck was torn open, and she'd lost a lot of blood. He didn't need his med kit to know nothing could be done for her. He knelt on the porch and squeezed her hand.

"Shh, it's okay," he said, though he knew she couldn't hear him over her moaning. He took the small pistol from his waist band, pressed it against her temple and pulled the trigger. After, he dragged in long, slow breaths, forced himself to keep moving.

"I'm coming, Kaylee," he murmured. "Wait for me."

---

"Ta ma de hwoon dan!" Jayne screamed. The gorramn Reaver tried to bite his finger off.

Through the bars, Mal punched the Reaver's desecrated face until the creature released its hold, fell down to the sandy ground outside the cell. He pulled Jayne to the floor, used his teeth to rip a slice from his sleeve. He motioned for Kaylee to tie up Jayne's hand before climbing back on the bench. Reavers already managed to hack away one bar. If they removed one more, they'd stretch more than a gun through the gap. They weren't tryin' too hard with the guns, mostly just seeking to scare their caged captives. They didn't want them dead, at least not yet. Mal struck out with his switchblade, felt one of the Reavers twist his hand back, rip open the knuckles on the brick. He bit down on his lip to keep from crying out, tried to wrench his wrist free. He closed his eyes, anticipating the feel of teeth ripping sensitive flesh. The gunshot surprised both Mal and the Reaver trying to gnaw on his arm. As the Reaver fell forward, Mal found himself staring into the slightly-glazed eyes of one Dr. Simon Tam.

"You better make it, Doctor." Mal shook his head slowly, watching the other Reavers turn in surprised, frenzied desire at the new arrival. " 'Cuz I'm lookin' forward to beatin' the go suh outta you once we're back on ship."

---

He came into the Sheriff's office shooting, easily taking out the two working their axes over the plexiglass. After, he pushed the door closed, used the dead man's desk as a barricade against the Reavers outside. He rushed over to the cell.

Kaylee pressed up against the glass, as though she could touch him through its scarred surface if she just tried hard enough.

"Simon," she murmured sadly.

He lay his hand opposite hers.

"Is anyone hurt?"

"I'm feelin' a little woozy," Jayne admitted, eyeing the red-soaked bandage on his index finger.

"What part of 'stay on the gorramn ship' don't you understand?" Mal shouted.

"I came here to help, Captain. Not that I expect you to be grateful; honestly, I doubt you're capable of gratitude, but--"

"You think this is over?" Mal demanded, voice low and furious. "You took out a few, Jayne and me mighta snagged a couple more between us. Reaver ship could easily hold fifteen, even if its just the one raiding party. This is gonna get a hell of a lot worse 'fore it gets better, Doctor."

As though the punctuate his claim, the Reaver axes began hacking through the outside door.

"Hell, might just get worse," Jayne said dryly.

"I have to get you out of here," Simon murmured, eyes on Kaylee. "What's the code to open the cell?"

"Ain't no use, Simon." She met his gaze mournfully. "Reavers smashed up the sourcebox. Only way to open her now is to hack in manually. Could take hours. Please go, bao bei. Please."

"Kaylee I'm not leaving you."

"Then she'll watch you die, Doctor," Mal said viciously. "Hell of a honeymoon."

His eyes softened as he saw the desperation on the younger man's face.

"Go on out the back way, son. You might just make it."

"I'm not going anywhere, Captain." He met Kaylee's eyes, a look of serene resolution in his stare. "I love you, sweetheart. Remember that."

"Simon!" She cried his name as the dart ripped through his back, had him collapsing forward against the glass as his legs went slowly numb. The Reavers were on him in seconds, lifting him to his feet, slamming his head back against the plexiglass.

Kaylee shrieked and shrieked, struck out at Mal when he tried to turn her away, press her face into his chest.

"Dear God, no," Mal murmured, his voice husky. "Look away, honey. Please."

Then there was a flash of movement. The doctor slid to the floor, forgotten, his head rolling sleepily to the side. Kaylee fell to her knees, fists pounding on the glass to wake him. Mal watched the beautiful dance, transfixed.

She moved like a cat, a fierce and graceful tigress, cunning and quick, sleek and serene. The boy danced beside her, his paleness playing off her dark beauty as they fought in tandem, taking down one after another. From the corner of his eyes, he snuck a glance at Jayne, saw that the merc was equally entranced. His breath caught when two grabbed her arms. But she was unstoppable, a force of nature or all that was unnatural. Mal couldn't take his eyes off her, which was why he didn't see Gideon fall. River knew a moment before it happened, her dark locks whipping around her face as she whirled, silently screamed out his name.

She leapt over broken chairs in her hurry, collapsed at his side and gathered his bleeding head in her lap. She didn't see the one surviving Reaver raise the ax over her head, start a downward arc that had Mal shouting out her name in helpless panic.

Someone shot a fist-sized hole through the Reaver's heart before it could complete the swing. Mal turned to see Zoe standing in the doorway, clad in full body armor, a gun in each hand. If River were a tigress, than Zoe was the mama lion, her sinewy figure poised for battle despite a few more curves in a few new places.

"One Reaver?" She lowered her hands and appraised the massacre on the floor. "You drag me off ship for this, Captain?"

"I'm gonna tan you is what," Mal told his first mate, though honestly he felt more like kissing the woman. "Next time you disobey one of my orders, you won't sit down for a week. Now, wake up the doc; the boy there needs medical attention. Then you get me the hell outta this box so I can yell at you some more."

---

While Zoe and Kaylee worked from their respective sides at getting the cell door open and Jayne whined for them to go faster, River slipped around back, wandered along the wall by the window.

She balanced on an empty wine barrel, stretched her fingers through the bars. "Captain," she whispered. "Wake up, Daddy."

Mal had been dozing.

"Hey, there." He stood and stretched a hand up to the window, compelled to touch her, prove she was real.

She pressed her face to the bars so he could stroke her cheek.

"Did Daddy Malcom miss his little girl?" she teased.

"When I get outta this cell, you and me gonna have a personal chat, Little One."

" 'Bout what?" she said, too lazy and content to find out for herself.

"You shot me!"

"Saved you. Twice now."

"Yeah, well you do anything that ruttin' dumb again, I swear I'll put you over my knee."

She smiled.

"Kinky, Captain."

He laughed, unable to help himself.

"Well, 'haps you're a little old for that."

"Old." She met his eyes. "Girl went away, woman came back."

"A mighty pretty young woman." He cleared his throat. "You, uh, you okay, Lil' Albatross? They treat you alright?"

"She's shiny. I'm shiny," she corrected.

"Yeah. You sound shiny," Mal agreed. "Seein' a lot now, aren't ya? Gave us all a bit of a scare before."

"Still learning," she admitted with a smile. "I'll get better."

"Oh, I've no doubt. You, uh, you'll keep me posted, right? Give me a heads up when you see trouble comin'?"

"I'm your albatross."

"Damn right. And now my ship's got her good luck back."

"Mmm, missed her. Missed Serenity."

"Yeah. Yeah, think she missed you too, Little One."

She held his hand through the bars, a little remorseful. She hadn't exactly been honest with him. She promised to alert him of danger. She meant the kind he could prevent. She didn't have the heart to tell him the rest.

--

The storm came at last, drenching Mal and crew as they flew back to Serenity in the mule. He let Zoe drive, enjoying the feel of the cleansing rain on his skin, the sight of the green fields soaking up nourishment. Renewal, he thought, half-asleep. He lay his arm across the back seat and felt River sink against him, close her eyes trustingly against his chest.

"They'll come for me," she whispered.

"You just let me worry on that, Little One."

From a distance, he saw Inara waiting under the awning, Raven snuggled up to her breast. Zoe left the mule idling outside Serenity, ran through the rain to her daughter. Mal helped River down, watched her skip inside, probably seeking out her brother for some teary-eyed family reunion. Mal approached Inara slowly. She came out into the open so the water soaked her hair, plastered the dark silk to her forehead. Her eyes were dry--probably the only part of her could make that claim. In his mind she was beautiful. He opened his arms and she ran into them.

---

It was awhile before Simon got to him; Mal insisted he minister to the others first, and he was occupied with Gideon most of the night. Boy hit his head pretty hard when he fell. The belly wound wasn't helpin' none either. He'd lost a good deal of blood in the time it took Simon to get him back to Serenity. The doc warned River it could be touch and go for a few days.

She just stroked Gideon's arm, murmured something beneath her breath. Then she turned, flung herself at Simon and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Shh, it's okay, mei mei. You're home now." From his seat on the spare bed, Mal watched Simon press a kiss to his sister's temple, push damp tendrils of hair back from her face. "Everything's okay, River."

River curled her hands around the back of his neck, buried her face in the curve of his throat.

"Are you?" she whispered.

---

After his arm was stitched, he went looking for her. He found her in her old shuttle, of all places.

"Mal. How's Gideon?"

He shrugged.

"Breathing, which is prolly more than he deserves. Still, he did keep River safe. That says something in the boy's favor. Guess I won't toss him out the airlock just yet."

"That's very generous."

She raised a hand towards his bandaged arm, was surprised when he caught it.

"Whoa, now. No feelin' me up till I buy you dinner. What kinda girl you think I am?"

She made a sound halfway between laughter and sobbing.

"Mal--"

He shook his head, scuffed his feet over the floor.

"You scare me, Inara."

She blinked, lashing pressing once in silent exasperation.

"I scare you?" she repeated dully.

"Damn right you do."

She shook her head, disbelieving.

"This from the man standing before me with yet another bullet hole."

He appraised the arm clip, just a glancing blow, really, and grinned.

"Thought you found my battle wounds sexy, darlin'."

"Sexy?" She pronounced the word as though she'd never encountered its equal. "Actually, Mal, they call to mind a pathetic young woman standing over a foolish man's new grave in her veil and tears."

"I'd be killed for you." He took a step forward, grazed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I'd kill for you or be killed, if need be. And it scares the ever-lovin' Hell outta me."

"I know you would, Mal." She looked at once tormented and soothed. "It scares me as well."

He tore his eyes away, stretched his arms up over his head to lighten things.

"Ai ya, if I ain't all manner o' achy." He figured it came from sleeping on concrete the past couple hours. "I'm guessin' an educated woman like yourself can make with the sponge-bathin' somethin' special."

"Sponge bath." She said the words slowly, deliberately.

"I...just an idea."

"This isn't a game, Mal. How can you make these little quips as though nothing happened?" As though none of it mattered, as though the blood wouldn't run just as red.

"Someone's got to, I suspect." 'Cuz if he thought on any of this too hard, he'd go mad.

"Do you know what was going through my head, sitting here, waiting?" Anticipating how he'd look dead. But even that was preferable to him not coming back at all. Always wondering, never knowing...

"Wish I didn't," he admitted.

"You could have been killed," she said softly.

"If I promise not to get myself in any more dicey spots, can we get back to the not-so-friendly touchin'? And to you ministerin' to my wounds? 'Cuz that part was good."

"You're a criminal, Mal."

"But...not petty, right?"

"Oh, no. You have unsavory contacts in all walks of life. People willing to slit your throat in every social caste."

"I am something of a Renaissance man. Inara." He lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "I got a rule. I never come back dead."

"Mal..."

"No, wait: I'm serious. In all the time you've known me, I ever come back from a job dead?"

"Near to."

"You just gotta trust me, Nara. You ain't gettin' rid of me this easy."

"That's good." She forced her lips into a smile. "Because you owe me a date."

---

Simon left River in Caroline's care, trusting Mal's sister to help his bathe and get dressed for bed. Silly, really. River had been taking care of herself some time now.

"I'll be right down the hall, mei mei. If you--"

"I'll always need you, Simon." She smiled up at him.

He found Kaylee in his bunk--theirs now. She sat on the edge of the bed, back straight and tense. She had a large violet-yellow bruise on her forehead.

"Hey." He knelt on the floor, brushed back her hair with gentle fingers. "You should have come by the infirmary, let me look at this."

"Daddy always said I got a hard skull." She smiled but her eyes were teary. "Head ain't the part that hurts, Simon."

He looked concerned.

"Do you want me to examine you?"

She would have laughed, 'cept none of this was funny. She leaned forward, resting her face on his shoulder. Automatically, his arms went around her waist, held her tight.

"Kaylee. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Simon. More than you know." She pulled away. "But I can't be a part of this."

"Kaylee, I don't--"

"Understand? No, I don't 'spect you do. What you did today, what you chanced comin' for me--don't you know it ain't just yours to risk?"

"You're my wife." He felt the frustration build in his chest. "What did you expect me to do?"

"Be the Simon I fell for all those months ago. The one full of goodness. I got enough dark in my life. Livin' out here, livin' like this. It's death 'round every bend, human beings who's barely that. When I saw you on Persephone...I knew you were better 'n folk like the ones out in the Black, different. They way you treated me--all proper and gentlemanly--that's the Simon Tam drove me wild. This new Simon, the one who carries guns, courts death--hell, I don't even know that person. But one thing's for certain: he ain't the sweet and gentle man I fell for. No, you surely ain't him."

She closed the door, leaving him alone with his uncertainty.

---

In the morning, her lips were plump and pink, swollen from his mouth's fervent abuse. Mal felt a little guilt-ridden, leaving his mark on her that way. He felt guilty for the arousal that curled in his belly when he saw his stamp on her. It made him want to drag her under him and take her again, make love to that pretty, swollen mouth and that exquisite, goddess-body until both were sated. But he couldn't quite summon the want to wake her. He liked her this way, asleep in his bed, safe and dreaming, those haunting, haunted eyes at rest. With her in his arms, his albatross at the helm, everything had a kind of rightness. One benefit of residing in Hell: you did come to appreciate the calm.

---


	12. Chapter 12

---

Waking with Kaylee was its own special pleasure. Sometimes, Simon would be the first one up. He'd stretch against her and wait for her to stir, knowing her rounded body rubbing his as she came fully into wakefulness was reward enough for his patience .

Kaylee, on the other hand, was less forbearing. Often he was roused from sleep by her lips, teeth, tongue. The morning after the wedding, he awoke to find his pajama pants tangled at his feet and her mouth trailing a warm, slippery path down his body. She was infinitely better than an alarm clock.

The past month, he missed her every morning. And every afternoon. Every evening. Still, he was busy. Gideon kept him busy.

Simon had easily healed the boy's stomach wound--Mal always kept the infirmary stocked--but the head trauma somehow escaped his notice. He didn't have the proper equipment to assess the injury, didn't realize its severity until Gideon slipped silently into a coma the night after surgery.

"River, I'm sorry," he murmured when Gideon was stable, sleeping a deep and inscrutable rest while machines monitored his heart rate. "I should have run more tests, checked for signs of..." He trailed off as his sister crossed the room.

She lay her cheek on Gideon's chest, listened to him breathe. She smiled with her eyes closed.

"Healing," she murmured, met her brother's eyes. "He was so tired, Simon."

"River..." He took her hand in his. "Can you see what happens to him?"

"Remember your Magic 8-Ball? Father found it at an Earth-that-Was auction in Capital City. You loved that thing," she said affectionately.

"And you're not a toy." He squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, River."

" 'Sokay," she said with a long-suffering sigh. "I'm used to you."

---

She didn't get her date for almost a month. She assumed he'd forgotten, his already-troubled mind overflowing with concerns old and new: crime, of course, finding new and creative methods to keep himself and nine others clothed and fed, playing daddy to Zoe's baby (and a good one he was, a fact she knew surprised him).

He worried too much, worried about Gideon even as he resented the boy for taking his albatross away. She'd seen him outside the infirmary late at night, watching through the windows as the pale-haired figure slept, chest falling and rising rhythmically as Simon pumped medicine into his veins through a myriad of tubes.

She knew he saw his youth in Gideon, recognized his own damaged, post-Serenity Valley self. That very connection made him distrust the sick boy even as he empathized. In a way they were very alike. Mal had faith like that once, an almost holy belief in something other. They both fought losing battles against impossible odds: Sergeant Reynolds versus the Alliance, Gideon against the Reavers. Gideon was the man Mal worried he'd become: a cold, lonely figure without friend or family. But Mal hadn't tread as far down that dark path as he feared. He couldn't empty his soul of all feeling, not when Raven smiled up at him for the first time three weeks ago, when River tattooed the Chinese characters for Serenity on her hip, insisted on showing everyone at dinner.

And though he'd never admit it, he worried about Kaylee and Simon as well. In a way, he felt culpable for Simon's transformation, if it was that. Inara suspected the good doctor wasn't so drastically altered. The man simply wasn't a killer. Neither was he as pure as the others envisioned him. He came to Serenity seeking a safe haven for his sister, and in the months after proved he'd do anything and everything to shield her from harm. His love for Kaylee pushed him to the same desperation. Still, Inara had hope that the boy would come back to himself. As puritanical as Mal was with such things, Inara knew he wanted both Kaylee and Simon to find happiness. He wanted all his crew happy, and for fleeting moments believed himself deserving of such pleasure. Apparently this date idea had taken root in his brain, for he brought it up after dinner one evening, when the two were alone on the bridge.

He'd held her in his lap, casually nuzzling at her neck while they watched the universe drift past. She was wearing one of her belly-baring tops, and his fingers played gently over her skin. He told her a story from the War, one of the happy ones about crashing the wedding of a four-star general's eldest daughter.

"You ain't lived till you seen Zoe do the male vocals from Summer Lovin' with four shots o' Absinthe in her."

"I'm guessing she didn't perform that duet all alone," she teased.

Mal smirked.

"I made a fair Sandy," he admitted.

She listened to his tales, careful not to probe overmuch. Mal rarely spoke of his past; she didn't want to pry past his comfort zone.

"How 'bout you?" he ventured when they'd been silent several moments. "Somethin' tells me you got a galaxy of tales in that pretty little head."

"What kind of story had you in mind?"

He shrugged.

"I'm easy. Though keep in mind I'm the jealous sort."

"Oh, well, in that case..." She smiled. "Maybe it's best that you ask the questions. I wouldn't want to overwhelm you."

"Cupcake, you implyin' that I can't handle--" He stopped, switched tactics as her meaning became clear. "I can ask you stuff? Anythin' my heart desires?"

"Depends. What do I get from this arrangement?"

He leaned close to her ear, whispered something intriguing enough to make her shiver.

"Mal," she murmured. She stroked her nails through his hair, shifting in his lap to kiss him. He kissed her back, easing her lips apart to stroke her tongue.

"Hold on." He pulled away, dragging in a breath. "Quit tryin' to change the subject."

She rolled her eyes.

"Three questions. And after, you let me give you that massage. You're all knots," she chided, running her fingers over his neck.

"Then I get to give you another massage."

"What you did last night was not a massage, Mal."

"Don't quite recall you complainin'. Lest those pretty little whimpers were a sign of displeasure."

"Mal!"

"And she calls me the puritanical one. Okay, first question: how'd your parents call you when you was just a bitty thing."

She smiled, surprised by the question and its innocence. Mal would always surprise her.

"My father called me his little gypsy," she admitted.

Mal nodded, as though her response pleased him.

"Next one. Let's see now. Well, thanks to our resident psychic, you know a disturbing amount 'bout my first time. Think I'm entitled to a few embarrassing tidbits 'bout yours."

She hesitated, unfazed by his question but wise enough to know he'd dislike its answer. He wanted to hear something innocent, sweet in its naivety. He wouldn't approve of the truth. Still, she refused to lie.

"My first time was at the Guild, Mal. I was sixteen."

"You--your first time was with a client?" She could tell he hadn't expected this, was sorry for asking.

"No. The Guild doesn't license inexperienced girls. Companions warrant such high fees because of the years of training they undergo. Each is painstakingly schooled in grace and restraint and ritual. Technique. Clients expect nothing less." She let him come to the conclusion himself, hoped it would be less jarring that way.

"They made you learn lovemaking in a classroom," he said quietly.

"No one forced me, Mal," she reminded impatiently. "And the instructors were kind. Gentle."

"Ta ma de hwoon dan."

"You're getting upset over things long past."

"Still ain't right."

"I don't want your pity, Mal."

"Inara." He looked surprised. "You got nothin' but my respect."

She smiled, threaded her fingers through his.

"Come to bed, Mal."

"Hold on a minute, I do get one more question. We'll be settin' down on Beaumond early next week. You fancy havin' a meal with me, Miz Serra?"

---

She caught him staring once, twice. Watching from the catwalk while she and the captain play-wrestled in the cargo bay. Leering at her across the table, turning quickly into his soup when she noticed. And yet he avoided her, went out of his way not to touch as they passed each other in the hall.

She knew Caroline stopped spending the night in his bunk. They still coupled--sometimes River listened--but it was hurried now, a fast and frantic joining. He no longer kissed her on the mouth.

The captain's sister wanted to leave, return to a world. Mal tried to convince her to stay, but she was insistent.

"I miss land, lakes, rain. I miss day and night. And horses."

"You want a pony? I could do ponies. Hell, we had a whole herd in the bay once."

"Malcom." She pet his face lovingly. "I expect to see you every Christmas."

"If I'm makin' the trek to Boros, you best prepare some of Mama's fine apple pie."

"I could be persuaded. Assuming you've a chubby niece of nephew for me in tow."

The captain had winced, glanced over his shoulder as though expecting Inara to overhear.

"Took me some thirty-odd years to get a date, Carly. 'Haps you can give me a bit more time to work out the rest."

River could see Caroline riding, the sun painting golden lines through hair the same shade as Mal's, the breeze lifting her long ponytail, whipping it around her head as she raced. She didn't worry about Caroline. Not like Kaylee.

River knew what nightmares could do to a person. During the day, Kaylee wandered Serenity like a ghost, her sparkling eyes turned hollow, her pretty face pale. River could feel her fear of sleep, knew she dreaded those long hours between midnight and waking. In her dreams, she battled back her memories; in her waking hours, she inhabited her dreams. And River could empathize, knew what it was to feel broken, dysfunctional. Walk like a girl, tickle Raven's toes, fix things, drink water. Remember to smile at the captain; make it look real. Neck aches from arching your back beneath the engine. Don't show pain in front of Simon, don't wince or roll your shoulders. Ask about Gideon at dinner; it's polite. And River: give the girl a big hug again today. Don't let her think she's to blame.

In Kaylee's dreams, River watched her brother die. The Reaver dart pierced through the fabric of his shirt to penetrate sensitive flesh, numb him from the waist down. He collapsed forward against the glass, trying to hold himself upright with sticky red hands. Kaylee would pound at the cell doors until her own knuckles bled, until the slim silver ring slid wetly to the floor. Then the Reavers came, some without countenance: a blur of teeth and claws. Some studied her with Jubal Early's eyes. In the end, she was left alone with a gun, the small silver pistol Mal pressed into her palm. When Kaylee dreamed these things, River woke crying, silent salty tears dripping down to wet her lips.

"Never asked for a sister."

"River." Kaylee sat up in the hammock, pressed a hand to her chest. "For a minute there, I thought the cap'n's space monkeys was finally come for me."

"Liked the games I had with Simon." River climbed into the hammock beside Kaylee, lay down gently so as not to overturn them. "Thought a sister would wanna play dolls, girl games." She made a face that showed how she regarded such things.

"What kinda games did you and Simon play?" Kaylee asked, turning to face her.

"Fought the gorramn Independents." River's face turned serious. "Don't tell Mal."

Kaylee smiled.

"Won't." She mimed crossing her heart. "What else?"

"Played doctor. Not the fun kind," she added when Kaylee raised a brow. "Sometimes I came down with Plague behind enemy lines. Simon had to save me."

"Yeah, he's real good at that," she murmured.

"Never asked for a sister." River smiled and slid her hand through Kaylee's, traced a finger over the simple band. "Glad to have her though."

Kaylee smiled sadly, her eyes filling.

"Wedding was real pretty, honey."

River raised a brow, flashed Kaylee a knowing glance.

Kaylee hooted a laugh, her first genuine chuckle in some time.

"Sorry, sweetie. For a second there, I forgot who I was talkin' to."

---

"Don't trust him, Sir."

Mal nodded, eyes on the blank screen of the cortex. Three weeks and no word.

"No, don't reckon I do either." He lifted Raven from her mama's arms, held her so her chubby legs walked over his lap.

"He sold us out, Sir. First to the Tams, then to Gray. Kept River away for months."

"How 'bout a smile for the captain?"

The baby leaned forward, knocked her mouth against his in an awkward kiss, her tiny fingers reaching up to clutch at his cheeks. Mal laughed, hugged her against his chest and rubbed small circles over her back.

"Captain?"

"Don't disagree with any o' that in particular, Zoe. Still, boy did save our lives back there. Brought the albatross back safe and sound to boot."

"Still don't like it, Sir."

"Well, sure you'll get the chance to throw this all in my face later. When I'm wrong, and the boy cuts our throats while we sleep." He hesitated. "Don't 'spose you've any personal reasons for wantin' the lad off ship?"

"Not sure what you're implying, Captain."

"Don't make me say it."

"Had an itch, Sir. Sometimes that's all there is to it. Surely you remember."

Indeed, he did. He remembered his need after the War to touch and be touched. Physical comfort, warm living flesh. He owed Mayella a debt for all those dreamless nights.

He hoped she was alive to see it repaid.

"No word from Bellerophon, Sir?" Zoe said softly, retrieving her daughter from his lap.

She could read him too well, that one. Almost as good as his albatross.

"Nothing yet."

"Her people live past the outskirts. Doubtful the Reavers made it that far."

"Hmm," he grunted, eyes on the screen.

"Should go on to bed, Sir. Think you're girlfriend's lookin' for you."

Mal met Zoe's gaze, shook his head.

"You ever gonna quit teasin' me 'bout the girlfriend thing?"

"Don't seem likely, Sir."

---

Inara ran a wide bone comb through River's tangled locks. She brushed until the shoulder-length bob shone smooth and sleek in the lamplight, gathered it all back with a clip.

"Needed change, rebirth," River said suddenly, answering the question Inara never asked. "Sorry."

Inara just smiled.

"Well, it looks lovely. I especially love the side bangs." She tilted the girl's head gently. "I should let you style mine."

"Captain likes yours long," River said knowingly.

"I know." Inara hesitated. "Perhaps you could come visit me tomorrow. We'll have that raspberry tea you love so much. We've a great deal of catching up to do."

"Simon wants you to talk to me."

"Yes," Inara admitted. "But it isn't just for him. I missed our chats, sweetheart. You left us a girl and returned a beautiful woman. I want to hear everything."

River smiled sadly.

"You don't."

"Honey..."

"Time for Raven's bottle. Zoe said I could feed her."

"She loves her Aunt River," Inara said warmly, patting the girl's hand.

"Wash wants me to tell her a story tonight." She stood, frowning. "Girl runs a dinosaur day care. Silly story. Fallacious. Humans and dinosaurs never walked together on Earth-that-was.

"I--Wash can be silly," Inara agreed, starting to feel dizzy. Conversations with River tended to take fast turns for the disorienting. "You'll join me tomorrow? Tea and cookies?"

"Mm. Jayne's coming."

"I--Jayne's coming here?" In all Inara's days on Serenity, Jayne had never graced her with a personal visit. Actually, she admitted, there had been one visit, a mutually-embarassing incident that occurred shortly after Inara joined the crew. Though Jayne wasn't one for discretion, he never mentioned the encounter. Inara appreciated that fact and returned the favor.

"Jayne." She set a friendly smile on her face, motioned for him to sit. "Can I help you with something?"

"Well, had a question could use a woman's wits. Zoe's not exactly the feminine sort and River's...well, don't 'spect those months away made the witch any saner. Seein' as Kaylee's lookin' three shades of dead lately, that leaves you."

"That's touching, Jayne."

"Naw, 'taint about touching, Nara. Can assure you Jayne Cobb don't got no problems in that department. "

She decided to ride right over the last part, unsure as to whether he was kidding.

"What did you want to ask me, Jayne?" she inquired cooly.

He leaned back in his chair, stretched his hands behind his head.

"Well, 'spect you know 'bout me and Carly havin' intimate relations."

Inara had to employ companion-training to keep a straight face.

"I, um...Mal said she was leaving."

"Seems eager to be off this heap."

When he was silent several seconds, she put a hand on his knee.

"Do you want her to stay?" she asked gently.

"Ain't perfectly certain."

"Be certain, Jayne. Don't ask her to give something you're reluctant to take."

"Guess you'd know 'bout that." But he said it gently, without ridicule.

"I guess I would," she said quietly.

"Guy like me, gorramn ship's merc--hell, I know it'd never work. Not that I'm all that hard on the eyes-always did just fine with the whores." He hesitated, shrugged his shoulder in Inara's direction by way of apology. "Still, gen-u-ine classy lady like Caroline ought have better. She deserves better."

"And you think you've that right? The right to determine what's in her best interest."

"She ain't you, Nara. And I sure as a steamin' heap o' niou-se ain't Mal."

Jayne might never be brilliant like Simon, a singular genius like River. But he understood more than anyone gave him credit.

"If you can't give her your soul, then let her go. Anything else would be a cruelty."

Jayne nodded.

"Was thinkin' the same thing myself, minus the fancy wording. Still good hearin' you say it, Nara. Don't take this wrong, but you got a good moral compass for someone trained as a whore."

"How could I take that wrong?" Inara replied dryly. "Now, if you don't mind, Jayne, I've some things that need attending."

"Sure, Nara." He hesitated at the foot of her ladder. "Gorrammit, I'm gonna go all manner o' mad we stay on this boat much longer. Mal say how soon we'd be dockin' on Beamonde?"

"Early afternoon, I believe."

"With any luck, I'll be pissed outta my head by tea time."

"You should take Simon out for a drink," Inara murmured. "Ye su knows the boy could use one."

---

"This...this is absolutely terrible." Simon poured another shot down his throat. "I think it's growing on me."

"That's the spirit." Jayne signaled the barkeep for a refill, figuring another three and he'd have more than made up for the rather disconcerting dream he had 'bout the doc's little sis. In his dream, little witch was fighting more o' the gorramn Reavers. And she was wearin' leather. "Don't you got some lame-ass story 'bout Moses gettin' sauced?"

Simon blinked, trying to keep Jayne in focus, wrap his spinning head around that last remark. Sometimes Jayne made his sister seem like the coherent one.

"I'm fairly certain the ancient Egyptians never drank this go suh," Simon said, finally making the connection.

"And here I was hopin' for a little book-learnin' along with my brew."

"Why -did- you invite me, Jayne? Not to be blunt, but we aren't exactly...well, if I may speak candidly...?"

"Be my ruttin' guest."

"To be...brusque...well, we don't actually like each other, Jayne."

"That ain't hardly news, Doc. Though, at the moment, I might be the one hates you least. Well, barrin' little sis, naturally."

"Naturally," Simon agreed, pushing Jayne's hand aside when he went for his wallet. "This round's on me."

"Thanks kindly, Doc." Jayne clinked his shot glass against Simon's, spilling half his own drink in the process. "Course, Lil' Kaylee's in a state, wonderin' what happened to the man she married and blah blah. And, naturally, Inara takes her side the way womenfolk always do."

"Naturally," Simon repeated. "Inara hates me?"

"Well, don't take it personal. Just that she and Kaylee's awful close. You know how girls can be...Now, Mal--Mal's all manner o' pissed at you. Zoe too, bein' the cap'n's dutiful ole lap dog."

"I wouldn't call Zoe a...wait, Zoe hates me too?"

"Well, you know how the lot of 'em feel 'bout Kaylee. Not like folk really take to you."

"You do have a point," Simon admitted. He took a shot. Revolting. He washed it down with another. "Perhaps it's your first. Maybe we should get a capture."

"Doc, you gettin' ironical with me?"

"Jayne! Of course not." Simon squinted hard at his left hand, realized he could still make out the gleaming band of silver around his ring finger. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll order us another round."

"Gorrammit, Doc, slow up; you're makin' me look bad." Jayne downed the rest of his drink, punched Simon none-too-lightly on the shoulder. "And quit bein' all snide. Ain't exactly nice since I done brought you here as a favor."

"Let me get this straight: You, Jayne Cobb, are going to do me a favor."

"I am," Jayne agreed magnanimously.

"Well? The suspense is killing me."

"Way I figure it, Doc, you and me got one thing in common."

"We're both just a little inebriated?"

"If that means tanked, then we got two things in common. First is we both humped ourselves but good when it comes to a certain sexy mechanic."

Simon blinked, trying very hard to focus now.

"Kaylee?" He wished she were here right now so he could throw himself on her lap, beg for forgiveness. Some part of his brain realized it was probably a good thing Kaylee wasn't here to see this. Jayne was talking, drunken ramblings mostly.

"...as for myself, ain't got no chance with her no more. But you, on the other hand. Hell, Doc, she likes you for some godforsaken reason. Likes the gorramn bun things you say and how you treat her right. Girl like her prolly never been courted before. Growin up way you did, all fancy-pants, gave you the advantage there. Have to be pretty gorramn dumb to let a girl like her get away. Bigger boob than you, even. Don't gotta be no top three percent to see she's somethin' special."

"Should never've told youz guys the three percent thing," Simon slurred. Parts of this sounded important. He wished he hadn't drank so much, regretted it now. Perhaps he should have another drink to calm his nerves.

"C'mon, Jayne," he said, sliding unsteadily to his feet.

"We goin' someplace, Doc?"

"Gotta go see a ship about a girl."

"How come I gotta leave?"

"I need a wing man."

---

He took her to an outdoor cafe with tablecloths and candlelight. He even pulled out her chair like his mama taught him.

"You ever been on a date before, darlin'?" he asked after, when they lingered over drinks.

"A few hundred," she answered, amused.

He raised a brow, and she rolled her eyes ceiling-ward.

"No numbers. Sorry."

He nodded, mollified.

"I meant--don't get all tetchy now--the kind where alls they pay for is dinner. Dessert not inclusive, if you catch my drift. You ever been on one o' them?"

She sipped her wine, toyed casually with the stem of her glass.

"Mal, imagine I'm a delectable chocolate mousse."

"Like the big thing with antlers?" He lowered his voice, leaned over the low-burning flame. "Is this, like, a role-playing game?"

She took a breath, reminded herself that they were in a semi-respectible restaurant: the sort of place that would frown upon vulgar displays. Also, she wasn't entirely sure he was kidding.

"Alright, Mal. Imagine I'm a cookie."

"I'm really more of a cupcake man myself." He grinned, reached over to squeeze her hand. "Cupcake."

"Mm-hmm. If you ever want another cupcake, I suggest you cease trying to infuriate me."

"Honest, Inara. I don't hardly gotta try."

She let him kiss her palm, graze the inside of her wrist with his teeth.

"What's past is past, Mal. Isn't that your philosophy?"

"That it is. Alls I meant was this is sort of a first--for both of us, I mean. This whole dating thing...ain't half bad. Get to sit out here with a pretty girl, enjoy the candlelight and fine local wine, some new constellations and that funny fella playin' the dulcimer."

She smiled, flicked her finger over his wrist, feeling his pulse jump.

"You wanna come home with me, Miz Serra? I'll show you my ship..."

She giggled, a response she would never have allowed herself with a client. Of course, Mal wasn't exactly her typical clientele.

"Like I've never heard that line before."

"You ain't never heard it from me." He rolled his eyes at her delicately arched brow. "Well, okay. But you're the one wanted to role play, Nara. I'm just tryin' to keep up."

Inara huffed out a breath, trying not to stab him with her salad fork. She sighed and set down her wine, decided to play along.

"Perhaps I'm not much impressed by ships, Mr. Reynolds."

"Well...well, mine's special, see. She ain't just your vanilla-sorta sailing vessel."

"Every man believes his ship to be something special."

"Mine really is. Got a lot of love in her, can see it in every beam and plank."

"Yes," she said, forgetting the game. "Serenity is home to me in a way the Guild never was." Truly it was mystifying. She'd spent nearly half of her twenty-six years as Companion. How bizarre that she felt most herself on a floating Firefly, part of a family of travelers so removed from her old life as to be almost foreign entities. And yet it all seemed so natural, not often easy but right just the same.

"C'mere." He motioned her over with a nod.

She glanced around the crowded outdoor patio.

"Mal..."

"You gonna come willing or do I gotta carry you?"

Inara rolled her eyes--dating Mal had to be bad for the corneas--but set down her wine, strolled over to his chair.

"Did you want something, M--?"

He tugged her down into his lap, took his face in his hands and kissed gently.

"Drives me wild-like hearin' you talk 'bout my boat."

"Serenity." She whispered the name near his ear, ignoring the stares they were inviting from the other diners.

"Oh, Baby. Say it again."

She smiled, kissed his lips lightly.

"Mal, you're--Daddy."

"Okay, I know I been pushin' it with the pet names. But that's a mite disturbing, darlin'. Bad enough when River calls me D--" Mal blinked, finally realizing that Inara's eyes were elsewhere. "Hey. What are we lookin' at?"

She stared as though transfixed, her figure gone rigid on his lap. He followed her line of sight to an older fellow, medium build with hair like midnight and narrowed brown eyes.

"Inara. You, uh, you know this guy?" His hand reached automatically for his holster.

"No." Inara shook her head slowly. "No, Mal. I don't believe I do."

"Captain Reynolds." The older man extended a hand to the younger one holding his daughter. "Vern Serra. I'm Inara's father."

---


	13. Chapter 13

---

The word -father- seemed to flip a switch in him.

Mal spread his legs a little, bumped Inara from between them with a gentle push, and sprung to his feet.

"You're Inara's father," he repeated dully.

"That's right, Mr. Reynolds." But he was staring at Inara, his gaze ripe with what could only be termed need.

"Her dead father. One ate his own gun?"

"I only have the one, Mal."

He turned, as though remembering her presence. She stared at the older man, her beautiful eyes expressionless. She wasn't so successful in governing her lips. The softly-painted mouth, still warm from his kisses, quivered as she looked into the eyes of a dead man. What did she see there?

"Mr. Reynolds, you captain a ship called The Serenity, correct?"

Mal blinked.

"I'm sorry, can you just hold on a second...? Sir." He touched a hand to the small of Inara's back. "Inara. Are you here?" he said more softly.

"Take me home, Mal."

"But, ah." He shot a swift glance at her father. "It's only the first date."

"Please, Mal." She slipped a hand through his arm, gave him a soulful stare, only half-affected.

"Inara. My sweet gypsy girl. Just let me--"

She shrank back, as though Death himself stretched cool, clammy hands toward her flesh. In the moonlight, her face appeared unnaturally pale. Mal stepped forward, set a firm hand on the older man's shoulder.

"Whoa, now. Let's all just keep our hands at our sides, dong ma?"

"They came to me in the night: three men from BSB. They told me you were dead." She sank as one boneless into Mal's chair. "You let them."

"I had no choice, bao bei."

"There's always a choice," Inara said sadly. "Letting your only daughter think you dead is the coward's one."

"I promise to explain, Inara. But this is neither the time nor the place." He turned to Mal, the look in his dark eyes a plea. "Perhaps we can continue this conversation on The Serenity, Mr. Reynolds?"

"Well, sir, that would be the lady's call." Mal knelt on the ground and brought his wine glass to Inara's lips, murmured for her to drink.

"It's just Serenity," Inara said calmly, without meeting her father's gaze.

"You live with Captain Reynolds?"

"Well, we live together on the ship," Mal answered when Inara just stared into his wine. "But she's got her own bunk! And I've got...my bunk..." He trailed off, unsure as to why he was defending himself to Inara's newly-ressurected father.

"So Mr. Reynolds isn't a client?" Vern asked, still trying to catch his daughter's eye.

"Uh, no, he surely ain't," Mal informed him.

"I didn't mean to imply...Forgive me, darling."

"Actually, Father, I don't believe I can." She rose slowly, her eyes as ice. Mal wondered how long until the ice melted, sending a warm cascade of tears flowing over rounded cheeks. "When next you deposit Blue Sun credits in your bank account, try not to think too hard on the fact that your lifelong employers sent assassins after us."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode toward the exit.

"Ren si de fo zu." Vern closed his eyes. "They came after you, bao bei?"

"Well, expect they were gunnin' for me," Mal said, removing Inara's wrap from the back of her chair; she seemed to have left it in her hasty departure. "Nara ain't exactly the sort makes a lotta enemies. She's...well, she's a cherry blossom. 'Course, you'd know that. Anyway, this was...well, was interesting, I reckon. Think I best be gettin' your daughter home now. Walk her to her door, and the like. You, uh, you enjoy your stay on Beaumonde, Mister Serra."

"A moment, Captain."

Mal turned reluctantly.

"Do think our girl's eager to be on her way, Sir."

"Unless you take me back to your ship, Mr. Reynolds, neither you nor my daughter will be going anywhere."

Mal scratched at the back of his head, shot a quick glance at Inara before approaching her father.

"Would that be a threat, Mr. Serra?" he asked, voice low.

"Are you a father, Captain?"

"No, Sir. Got a little niece though."

"Then I don't need to ask whether you'd intentionally put her in harm's way."

"What exactly am I to infer at this juncture?"

"BSB. My employers chased you halfway across the solar system, Mr. Reynolds. They sent me here to collect you, landlock your ship. In exchange for my efforts, I'd be allowed to take away my daughter.

"Jen dao mei," Mal muttered.

"They said you kidnapped and brainwashed Inara, destroyed her career."

Mal gave a short laugh.

"Sir, you really believe I could make Inara do that which she wasn't already set on, you don't know your girl at all."

--

"Right decent bunch o' folk," Mal said as the three stepped into the cargo bay. "Simon's a fine medic--top three percent, he'll have your know. And Lil' Kaylee--that's his wife, legal and lawful--she serves as ship's mechanic. River's Simon's lil' sis, regular genius. Trainin' to be our pilot. Than there's Zoe, been with me since the war. Well, not with me, with me--we're just friends is all. And she's got a little girl, Baby Raven, by her husband. Late husband...Right little angel, she is though. My sister's visitin' now, too. Yessir, that's my crew. All 'bout family and babies. You know we even had a preacher on board for awhile?"

"Mal!" Inara dug her fingernails into his arm hard enough to have him wincing, pulled him back so they could converse in private.

"Ow," he said pointedly.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"He's a liar, Mal. He isn't stupid."

"I'm just tryin' to be friendly, darlin'."

"You're sounding like a gorramn soldier."

"I was a gorramn soldier!" he protested, a little hurt.

"Well, he isn't your commanding officer."

He wasn't dead neither. And sooner than later, she'd have to deal with that fact. But he suspected they'd all do better on a few hours shuteye. For now, Mal just slid an arm about her waist, pressed a kiss to her temple as the moment seemed to call for one.

"Just gonna get your daddy settled in one o' the passenger dorms. Why don't you go on to bed, slip into some snuggly-sorta sleep wear."

"I don't want him here," she said softly. The vulnerability creeping into her eyes made them appear all manner o' youthful. He wanted to take her in his lap, hold her till she smiled again, flashed that coy, couth look that was always a sucker-punch straight to the gut.

"Ain't too keen on the notion myself. Still, you don't want Serenity grounded now, do ya? That's a good girl. Have a cup o' that swanky tea you're so fond of, and I'll be down in a bit."

He followed Inara into the kitchen, stopped short when she did, nearly crashing into her. A few paces to the left, Vern Serra stood, unmoving. All three watched wordless as Simon balanced drunkenly between two chairs, stepped swayingly onto the kitchen table. Across the room, Jayne leaned against the counter, swigging whiskey straight from the bottle while encouraging Simon to get his ass-end up there.

"Uh, Doctor?" Mal asked when he finally found his voice. "What the hell you think you're doing?"

"I love you, Mal, but bi zui!"

Mal gave a short laugh. Inara recognized it as his "I'm just about outta patience so y'all best duck 'n' cover" laugh.

"Excuse me?" he said darkly.

Simon neglected to answer, perhaps preoccupied with the task of finding--and keeping--his footing on the table top. He walked carefully to the far end of the surface, spread his feet to better his balance. Then he let out a yell, half-moan, half-demand.

"KAY-LEE!"

Inara jumped back, her shoulder blades striking the wall. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mal do the same.

"KAY-LEE! KAYLEEEEE!"

The sound of shattering glass punctuated the last scream. Jayne had dropped his bottle of whiskey, the remaining amber solution spilling out onto the floor. He hardly noticed, boozy eyes fixed on the doctor, clearly stunned that the sophisticated Simon could muster so much noise.

"KAYLEE. KAYLEEEEE!"

"Mal, do something," Inara hissed under her breath.

"You mean like take captures?" He shrugged innocently when she glared. "What would you have me do, darlin'?"

"Well, perhaps you could hit him -gently,-" she suggested, cringing as Simon swayed violently near the edge of the table. "I really don't think Kaylee needs to see this."

"Gently," Mal repeated. He shook his head, but started toward the table.

"Simon?"

Too late. Kaylee climbed the last few steps from the passenger dorms, her brown eyes narrowed and puffy, hair mussed from sleep. Weary, Mal folded his arms over his chest, waiting for the explosion.

"KAYLEE!" Simon lowered his voice, some part of his inebriated brain realizing they were in the same room. "Kaylee."

"Aw, Simon. What happened to ya?" She glared at Mal, who held up his hands in protest.

"Hey, don't even think o' lookin' at me!"

"Simon, let Mal help you to bed," Inara coaxed, slipping a soothing hand through Kaylee's.

"Won't that be a treat," Mal muttered.

"Kaylee," Simon started. He glanced at Jayne for support, received a reassuring albeit drunken nod. "You--you--you never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your li-ips."

"Oh, good God," Mal murmured.

"There's no tenderness like before in your fingerti-ips."

Inara clapped a hand over her mouth, bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

"You're trying hard not to show it," he warbled, paused dramatically and gestured to Jayne.

"Ba-by." The merc remembered his role, belting out the two syllables in a low baritone.

"But baby, baby I know it."

"Tyen shioa duh." Kaylee gawked, wide-eyed, openmouthed, at the spectacle that was her husband. The polite and proper, extremely cultured Dr. Simon Tam was dancing on the dining room table, serenading her with the Righteous Brothers. He even looked kinda swai, his white button-down open to the waist, revealing the undershirt below, his hair all wild and in his eyes. She couldn't even move, just stood rooted to the floor.

"You've lost that loving feeling/ Oh-h, that loving feeling /You've lost that loving feeling/ Now it's gone, gone, gone--"

"Whoa-oh," Jayne sang loudly, this time without waiting to be cued.

Mal shot him a dirty look, glanced uneasily at Inara's father. The older man seemed rather taken aback. Mal cringed, wondering just how many notches he'd lost on the captainy credibility belt. At the least the doc wasn't stripping; that was something.

"It makes me just feel like crying, ba-by." He held out his hands, eyes mournful as he sang the words especially for her. "'Cause ba-by, something beau-ti-ful's dying!"

He went into the chorus again, and Kaylee felt something tug at the corners of her mouth. She'd been with more than her fair share of men, and not a one of 'em done and serenaded her before. It was both thoroughly embarrassing and incredibly touching. Her honey didn't have much in the way of vocal cords. He must love her somethin' fierce.

"--now it's gone gone gone. And I can't go-o on--"

"No-oh-oh," Jayne sang.

"Simon." Kaylee took a step forward, deciding this had gone on long enough. In the morning, he'd have a murderous hangover that'd pale in contrast to the humiliation he'd be facing. "That was real sweet, honey, but don't you think you oughtta--"

"Baby, baby, I get down on my knees for you!"

And that was where Sexy-Singing-Simon lost it, Inara realized after. When the doctor tried to kneel, he slipped, went careening cartoonishly off the edge of the table and landed in a heap on the floor.

"Simon!" Kaylee squealed, dropping to the floor at his side. "Oh, baby," she murmured, gathering his head in her lap.

"Kaylee?" A moment later he was sleeping the deep and restful slumber of the seriously cockeyed, a fine trickle of blood running down his temple where he'd grazed it in the fall.

"Huh," Mal said loudly, breaking the silence.

"Quite an interesting crew you have, Captain Reynolds," Vern observed, taking a step out from the wall.

Mal shook his head ruefully.

"And he's the dull one.

---

Jayne passed out on the couch shortly after Simon. Mal tossed a blanket over him, then helped Kaylee carry Simon to bed, dropped the doctor face-first on his mattress.

"Don't envy the headache he'll have come mornin'."

Kaylee sat on the bed, smoothed a hand through Simon's rumpled locks.

"Cap'n? My a total moonbrain for findin' that sorta romantic?"

Mal hesitated, lips curving against his will.

"Okay, yeah," he admitted, nodding. "Still, boy's got a pair. Croonin' love songs with a voice like his...takes guts, that's for certain."

"He loves me," she said softly.

"That he does, Lil' Kaylee." Mal patted her shoulder. "You gonna be okay now?"

"Think I am, Cap'n."

"That's my good girl."

When he was gone, Kaylee closed the door to their bunk, for that's what it was: theirs. She stripped down to her underthings and slid under the covers, curling against her husband's warm torso. She fell asleep clutching his arm between her breasts. Tonight, she wouldn't dream.

---

River didn't feel well. She couldn't pinpoint a specific malady; nothing ached or throbbed or stung. Her head simply felt heavy, overly full. She slipped out of bed and dressed in the dark, wandered barefoot down the hall.

The infirmary was silent, save the steady beat of Gideon's heart monitors, the hum of the heat pouring in through the grates. Once, she'd hated this room. Now it just reminded her of her brother. Simon. No one understood her like Simon; no one bothered to unravel her twisted analogies, decipher her little word games. They accepted her as one of them, and she was grateful. Still, they didn't see. Into her damaged brain, lithe warrior-body, they projected their own notions, fears, desires. Inara saw a girl in need of guidance, Jayne a fierce weapon.

Simon just loved, even when she did things that seemed unlovable. He loved the precocious five-year-old as fiercely as the broken teenager. And now he loved the new River, the one who saw too much, had seen too much. Missing him was a physical ache when she was away. Gideon, and sometimes Mal, expected her to resent Simon and his poking, his steady stream of pills. But you didn't resent love. Even the Captain, who feared love, didn't resent it.

River carried the chair over to Gideon's bedside, curled up with her legs beneath her. She lay her leaden head on his chest, letting the steady rhythm soothe her, squelch the nausea roiling in her belly. She'd been in his place before: the one sick, healing. It was after Jubal Early; her panic attacks turned excruciating, so severe as to prevent any semblance of normality. Simon tried every drug he could lay hands on. The others took turns sitting up with her nights. Inara read to her, racy passages that Simon blushed to overhear. Kaylee and Wash dropped by together, filling her in on the day's gossip, constantly interrupting each other with boisterous corrections. Even the captain visited once or twice, held her slender hand between his bigger, calloused ones while he told stories from his childhood. It was his descriptions of the lush Shadow landscape, combined with Simon's medicines, that finally had the panic attacks subsiding, the nightmares receding into long-remembered sunsets of orange and gold.

She would do for Gideon, speak to him in the dark place. He was her crew, just as she was Mal's.

---

He found her lying flat on the bed, dark hair splaying over the clean sheets like seaweed on a white sand beach. She wore only a robe, the midnight blue fabric a sharp contrast to her skin in the lamplight. Balancing on one arm, Mal used his free hand to lift her neck by the nape, tilt her face toward his for a kiss.

"Reckon there ain't much point in askin' how you are."

"I'm fine, Mal. Or I will be once we're off this rock. I've decided I don't much like Beaumonde."

"Yeah, she ain't the friendliest little pseudo-Earth," he said, recalling a certain unpleasant stay at the Beaumonde Inn. "With any luck, though, we'll be flyin' pretty this time tomorrow." Sheathed in the Black.

"Why do you trust him, Mal?"

He shrugged, ran a finger absently down her forearm.

"I don't trust anyone, Nara. Still, the man came here to save you. If he'd an ambush in mind, 'spect I'd be gettin' poked and prodded aboard some Alliance cruiser nowbouts."

"He's a liar."

"Well, yeah. Not sure that makes him any worse 'n the rest of us."

"That's...that's different," she said stiffly. "We don't lie to one another."

Didn't they? He stroked a hand down her cheek. How many days did you and me dance, Nara? Wasn't each heavy silence just another form of mendacity? Even now so much went unsaid. Every time he bedded her, he thought on how it could be the last. He knew eventually they'd whither under such heat or else freeze when it turned to frost. She'd be the one to walk away; somehow he'd compel her to go. No way was all this softness his for keeps.

"Where are you?" she asked, hovering over him. Her robe fell open at the neck, a blood-red stone dripping down from her throat.

He reached up to finger the glowing ruby that once belonged to his mama.

"You kept it," he said, clearly pleased.

"I love it," she said simply.

He grabbed her wrists, giving her no choice but to fall forward onto his chest.

"Mal!" she protested, lips curving in a smile.

He traced their line with his index finger.

"I'd buy you a thousand bits o' shiny if I could."

"Then you'd have to buy me a new closet," she teased. As it was, her narrow storage space was rapidly filling. When she arrived at the training house as a girl of fourteen, she'd seen the accomplished companions, envied them their fine dresses and rich baubles. Now, over a decade later, she lay on a twin bed with a man who wore suspenders. Voluntarily. And she wanted him more than all the gowns and jewels in Capital City.

"Kiss me, Mal."

He did, pushing her down into the pillows, nudging apart her knees to settle in the hollow between. When he kissed her, he cupped the sides of her face, warmed her lips with his before stroking her tongue. She slid her hand over the bulge in his pants, pleased when he groaned. Then he was pulling back, pulling away.

"Think it's time I be gettin' back to my own bunk, darlin'. What with this bein' the first date and all."

She raised a brow.

"Since when are you a stickler for tradition?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, I can be plenty old-fashioned. Especially with your daddy sleepin' just downstairs."

"You're joking."

"Wish I were," he admitted, eyeing the vee where her silky robe dipped down between her breasts. "Just don't think I can, well, take you, knowin' he's on board."

"Okay," she said slowly, rising to her knees in the center of the bed. "Then I'll take you."

"Oh, ho, ai ya, wo mun wan huh, ain't we?"

He let her tug her back against him, those small, skillful hands sliding over his back, slipping lower to cup his butt as her mouth worked some witchcraft against his.

"Mmm, I want you, Mal," she whispered, taking his ear lobe between his teeth. "I want you inside me."

He felt her breasts press his chest as his hips strained into her.

"Whoa now!" With more than a little effort, he detached himself from her embrace, took a deliberate step back. "You are invoking those tricky wiles again, aren't ya?"

"Seriously, Mal; this is ridiculous. We're both adults--mostly. And you've slept in my bed every night this week."

"Go to sleep." He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, started up the ladder. "Thanks for the date, Miz Serra." Not to mention the hard-on he'd be stuck with half the night now.

Inara flung herself down at her dressing table, began to brush her long hair with violent strokes. She ripped off her aquamarine earrings and tossed them on the dresser. One way or another, that man would be the death of her.

---

Simon wished he was dead; the only part he couldn't quite remember was why. Moving very slowly, he lifted a hand to his aching head, felt a sticky hardness in his hair that could only be dried blood. He found it only a tad disturbing that he could now identify dried blood by feel.

His mouth felt scorched, his tongue swollen and awkward. He tried to shift into a sitting position, realized his desire for water didn't outweigh his want to keep his head in one piece. He was about to give up, slip back into an uneasy sleep if possible. Then he felt something press against his lips, wetting them. Oh, Dear God, was he dreaming? Cool, quenching water slid deliciously down his throat.

He opened his stinging eyes to the most precious sight in the 'verse: Kaylee sat straddling his hips in her underwear, a bottle of super-strength painkillers in her hand.

---

Mal wore his good suspenders to breakfast, figuring he oughta dress up a bit for his sorta-girlfriend's recently resurrected father. Even if he didn't entirely trust the hwoon dan. He strolled into the dining commons to find Inara, Zoe and Jayne sitting in companionable silence. Raven was considerably less silent, shrieking and banging a spoon against the table. Mal dropped a kiss on her chubby cheek, sticky from dribbled milk, and tickled her under the chin before taking his seat beside Inara.

"Are you sure you should sit there?" Inara asked under her breath. "You might accidentally succumb to my wicked wiles."

"Just be sure to keep your wiles in your lap, darlin', and we'll all be shiny."

She rolled her eyes at him, reached back to rub a creak in her neck. She hadn't slept well last night. How strange that she slept best while being crowded by a six-foot-tall ship's captain who stole all the covers. She glanced up as Simon and Kaylee entered.

"There he is!" Mal said loudly, pleased when Simon cringed.

"Be nice," Kaylee hissed, taking her seat across from Inara. The look in the younger girl's eyes said she was healing, moving toward acceptance even if she wasn't quite there.

"Oh, no," Mal said, when Simon tried to sit. "Entertainment staff eats at the counter."

Jayne snickered, had the grace to look guilty when Mal shot him a death glare.

"Thank you, Captain Malcom Vontrap," Simon muttered, pouring coffee for himself and Kaylee. He added sugar and milk substitute to Kaylee's, passed her the marmalade jam he knew she favored.

"Did he just insult me?" Mal paused, mug halfway to his mouth.

"Ain't exactly sure," Zoe admitted, a smile tugging at her lips.

"I think it was an apt analogy," Inara congratulated.

Simon rewarded her with a grin, which quickly faded to a look of regret.

"While I have you all here, I'd like to apologize for my behavior last night. I don't normally...dance on table tops...or sing."

"How 'bout the stripping?" Mal asked devilishly. "That part o' your usual repertoire?"

"I-I took off my clothes?"

"No!" Kaylee kicked Mal's ankles under the table.

"Ow!" he protested.

"Weren't no stripping, honey," she assured, kicking Jayne once for good measure. Something told her the mercenary wasn't exactly innocent here.

"Hey!"

"Oh, thank God," Simon murmured, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, much as it's fun tormenting the doc, we do have some matters need discussin'. First is we're leavin' Beaumonde a mite ahead o' schedule."

"How far ahead, Sir?"

Mal glanced at Zoe.

"Departure time's oh-ten-hundred."

"Captain, we're scheduled to pick up cargo this evening."

"I'm aware of that. You wave Wyatt and explain the job's off."

"He won't be pleased, Sir."

"Hell, he'll be downright pissed, Mal."

"I can't believe I'm lobbying for crime, but we do need the credits, Captain. The infirmary's running low on several items, particularly plasma." Simon had worked in clinics that didn't go through plasma so fast.

"Serenity could use a few new parts in her too, Cap'n."

Mal slammed a fist into the table, compelling even Inara to jump.

"Listen up now: in two days time, this planet's gonna be crawling with Blue Sun Workers."

"River," Simon murmured, his eyes gone wide.

Mal knew what the boy was thinking. He'd only just got his sister back. He couldn't lose her again so soon.

"Your sister's safe and sound in her bunk, Doctor; just checked in on her myself. And I aim to keep her that way. Only reason we didn't leave last night is hasty 3AM departures tend to arouse suspicion, make our presence known to the local lawmen. This morning we fill up on fuel, procure some food stuffs. Then we get the hell off this rock, dong ma?"

"River see this, Sir?"

"Shuh muh?"

"Ain't like us knowin' stuff ahead a time," Jayne muttered. "Boot to the groin's usually first sign o' trouble."

"Yeah." Mal glanced at Inara, failed to meet her gaze. "Yeah, maybe our luck's finally changing."

Kaylee beamed.

"Had to happen someday, Cap''n."

"Good morning."

They all glanced up as the older man entered the kitchen. He'd dressed for the morning meal in Inara's style, or more accurately Simon's, his pants neat and tailored, his blue wraparound shirt richly embroidered.

"Mornin'," Jayne responded evenly. Then, voice lowered, "Want I should shoot him, Mal?"

"Jayne!" Kaylee shook her head, disapproving. "You don't even know him!"

"Lil' Kaylee, when's the last time we had a guest didn't need shootin'?"

Even Simon had to acknowledge the truth in that statement.

"Have a seat, Sir," Mal said loudly. "Don't pay no attention to my crew; I never do. Sit down here next to your beautiful daughter. You a coffee-black sorta man, Mr. Serra?"

Inara rolled her eyes and nobly ignored them both.

"Please, Captain; call me Vern. And yes, I'd be most grateful for a cup."

"Hey, Raven." Jayne poked the squealing baby between the ribs. "Your uncle get beamed with an ass-kissing stick last night?"

"Let's keep a civil tongue, Jayne," Zoe said amused. "You teach my baby to curse and I'll have to beat you with your own limbs."

"Ain't that just a charming breakfast image," Mal muttered, pouring coffee.

"Serra," Simon said suddenly. "You're Inara's father?"

"Actually, son, we met last night," Vern said, tone dryly amused.

Simon opened his mouth, closed it again and lowered his face over his breakfast, though not before flashing Inara a look of sincere apology.

"I knew you looked familiar-like when I saw you last night." Kaylee squinted appraisingly at father and daughter. "Somethin' 'bout the mouth."

"So that where Nara gets her mouth?" Jayne muttered into his juice.

"Uh, Mal? Perhaps now isn't the best time to be taking on guests, what with our current travel plans."

Mal opened his mouth but Vern cut him off.

"Dr. Tam, is it?" He waited for Simon to nod. "Doctor, I've spent the last twenty years working for the people who hurt your sister."

"I--I don't understand."

"Blue Sun Brigade, also known as BSB. They sent me here to landlock Serenity, hand over its captain and return River Tam to the Academy for--"

Simon and Jayne were on their feet before he could complete the sentence.

"Zoe," Mal murmured.

She clamped a hand on Jayne's shoulder, pushed him forcefully into his chair.

"Sit, Doctor," she added stiffly. Reluctantly, Simon lowered himself to his seat.

"This is not my intention, Dr. Tam. I came her to assuage my fears regarding my daughter's happiness and well-being." He raked his gaze over his daughter. "It would seem she's found a home."

"Damn right she has," Kaylee said fiercely. Inara graced her friend with a warm smile.

"At any rate, I intend to help Captain Reynolds evade my employers. To accomplish this, I'll require your absolute trust and cooperation. The influence of BSB is far-reaching. When the organization learns of my betrayal, the Blue Hands will come looking. Fortunately, I know where they'll look."

"How did you find me?"

"Inara?"

When she spoke again, her voice was steady, clear as the Persephone sky at midday.

"Serenity had only been docked on Beaumonde a few hours. You not only found the ship, you located Mal and me at a particular sidewalk café."

Vern smiled, reached over to brush back a strand of Inara's hair. He trailed a finger over the aquamarine square in her ear, pretending not to notice the way she shrank from his touch.

"These are very lovely on you."

"They belonged to Mother. After she died, they sent me her things at the training house."

"They did so on my orders. First, they installed a microscopic tracking device behind the stone. The solar system is a big place, my child. I never wanted to lose sight of you."

"So you traced me," she said quietly.

"Until Sihnon. You left in something of a hurry, no? For months, the stones lay immobile in a storage room."

"Until we picked up them and the rest o' your sundries at the post station." Mal shook his head, half creepified, half impressed.

"You were fortunate I wore my teal gown to dinner, Father." Inara stood slowly, pushed in her chair. "Imagine your inconvenience if I'd gone with the pink?"

She left the room in a huff even Mal had to admire.

---

Jayne stowed away Mal's last-minute purchases, working quickly so as to be out of the cargo bay by takeoff. Little witch tried, but she weren't Wash. Her departures still had that stomach-twisting quality to 'em, especially after a night of respectable drinking. Jayne finished loading the hold, rolled out the kinks in his neck. Damn if he weren't all manner o' tense these days. He wondered what the Shepherd would prescribe. Meditatin'? Weight-liftin'? Directin' his energies toward that mysterious other? Jayne didn't know 'bout none o' that. But he was feelin' desperate enough to try something wacky.

"Not sayin' I believe in you." Hell, if he thought hard enough on the subject of God, he'd likely realize he hated the bastard. In that case, not believing might be the lesser evil. "But if'n the Shepherd was right, and you ain't the vengeful sort, 'haps you could do me a favor. I know I never prayed before or nothin', but 'haps that's 'cuz I was holdin' out for somethin' big: savin' my credits if you will. And actually, God, this is an easy one. Ain't askin' for interplanetary peace or nothin' loopy. Just one thing I want, Lord. Please see fit to get that gorramn witch outta my head."

If the bastard was feelin' especially generous, he wouldn't let Jayne dream on her.

---


	14. Chapter 14

---

At breakfast, he watched her. Huge brown eyes--her mother's shape, his shade--regarded the mechanic with warmth, the Tam girl with indulgence. Vern wasn't certain which emotion danced across her irises when she looked at Mal. Slender fingers encircled her tea cup, lifted the white china to lips the same color as her mother's. She was beauty and grace and dignity. Somewhere beneath he saw fire.

"Nara." Vern scooped a hair-peppered hand under her elbow. "May we talk a spell, my daughter?"

When she turned, her eyes were dark, infused with a remote coldness that belied her name. Inara: ray of light. Her mother named her. As a girl, she was his light.

"Please don't mistake my good manners as an invitation to lay hands on me, Father." She sat purposely across the table from him, rested her chin on her hands. "It's a simple consequence of my education and bears no reflection on my feelings for you."

"When did you come to despise me, bao bei? Was it the day I died or the one I came back?"

It was neither. The bitter seeds were sown long before he forged his suicide.

"I don't hate you," she answered, her expression pleasing if not actually pleased. "It's only that I resigned myself to your death long ago. Accommodating the living you is beyond my abilities."

"I understand your rage."

-This wasn't rage.-

"But you can't turn your back on family."

-I'm with family.-

"Your mother wouldn't want it this way.-

-My mother's dead.-

"Tell me why," she said at last.

"Will the truth enable you to forgive?"

-No. But you owe me that much.-

"I'm an old man now, Inara. Once I was young as you...as your captain-friend."

"Mal's not my friend." She lifted her chin, met his gaze, her own steady. "He's my lover. And you don't look old, Father. You face is still smooth, your hair dark and full. You look like a man who has taken excellent care of himself."

"The lines on my face can scarcely speak to those on my heart, child."

"Poetry, Father? Please, I don't think I can bear it."

"Such derision is hardly suiting a woman of the Guild, my dear."

"Then it's fortunate I'm a companion no longer."

For a moment, father and daughter eyed each other in silence.

"You asked for the truth. This is it: when you were but a child, I lost a great deal of credit over a particularly risky research venture. You understand that Blue Sun is not under Alliance employ exactly; the Alliance merely contracts with Blue Sun and its many subsidiaries. Because of my blunder, BSB lost an important contract."

Her nose crinkled in a gesture so like the child-Inara that Vern winced, as though a dagger were slid deep in his gut.

"Which contract?" she asked.

"Medical research, nothing of consequence. In any event, I was left practically destitute."

"So you made a trade of sorts." She remembered her first glimpse of a companion in the woman who visited her father.

"I promised to put the choice in your hands. If you refused, the Guild would allow me to pay back my debt over time."

"It was my choice." She raised her chin. "I don't pretend otherwise."

"You were always independent, child."

"No I wasn't." She met his eyes, her own unwavering. "But my history isn't the topic of today's discussion."

"They threatened you, threatened your mother. The men and women of BSB strive to do good, to make this world--all these worlds--better. They're scientists, doctors. But Blue Sun is a large organization whose fingers dip in many pies. Some divisions are less pleasant."

"Mal mentioned an encounter with the armed forces division." She moved an unconscious hand to her belly, remembering the scar on his. For a second, she sounded very young.

"He was a Browncoat, yes? I've heard talk of the man Malcom Reynolds. Even many who wish him harm admire him."

"Who threatened you? Blue Sun? The Alliance?" Once again, the resolve entered her tone, spread to curtain her features in mystery.

"I imagine the orders came from Alliance. An urgent situation required my express attention. Should I refuse...well, I shouldn't. By then I was in deep, too deep for them just to release me."

"For what possible reason had you to be dead to do their bidding?"

"I made several breakthroughs in my medical research. The profit potential was astronomical. Morally, however...I trusted them to use my science with superior judgment. They did not. Now, they want the girl."

"BSB?"

"BSB. The Alliance. Everyone wants River Tam."

"For what purpose?"

His eyes clouded.

"That I cannot say. I do know she's invaluable. At least she was when I first heard tell of her..."

Inara held up a hand, her lashes pressing once in silence torment.

"Stop...just stop. I don't want to hear anymore. I--I don't know what you did or might have done. But I will tell you this, Father. You'd do well to ensure that no one on this ship leans about any involvement you may have had with that poor girl. For your sake, I urge you to heed that advice if no other."

She raced the tears back to her bedroom.

---

Rhythm and endurance. A firm and dedicated grip. Up, down, up, down. Hang on to the point of combustion, then push just a little harder. The philosophy suited Jayne in a surprising number of ventures, from pumping his weights in the cargo bay to pumping his hard manhood into a willing woman.

All day he'd been listening to the sounds of her leaving. He heard her with Kaylee outside his bunk, laughin' and teasin', pressin' the mechanic with last minute words of wisdom. Instruction 'bout marriage and lovin', lubin' up the cap'n with home-cooked meatloaf.

Later, storing some parts, he caught a glimpse of her in the cargo bay. She'd tied up all that burnished hair in a knot, so as to keep it out of her face while she packed her few possessions, made the rounds for goodbyes. She and Zoe was set down on an army blanket with Little Raven betwixt them. He couldn't make out the topic of discussion, and the women were careful to keep their voices low. But the long hard stares being exchanged told him they were serious. Every few moments,Caroline would incline her head, gaze adoringly at the wriggling baby. When she did, piece-y bits of her hair fell forward to tickle the flushed skin of her cheeks. The heat was on too high, and every so often she'd tug gently at the collar of her dress, sending a blast of air down her florid chest. Once she caught him looking, met his gaze with something like regret. Then she was whispering with Zoe again, leaving Jayne to wonder if he'd only imagined the moment.

After the evening meal, Caroline cornered Inara, who'd volunteered for dish duty in what even Jayne knew was naught but an obvious attempt to thwart conversation with her father. She cupped an easy hand under the girl's elbow, whispered something in her ear that was lewd enough to have Inara's eyes widening with amusement. Even Jayne considered this a small miracle, as Inara had been wandering the halls like the last virgin on prom night since Daddy Serra's return to the living. Caroline tugged the smaller girl into a fierce hug, kissed both her cheeks. Jayne thought she murmured 'thank you,' but was too far away to be sure.

She saved her brother for last, found him loitering outside the infirmary where Gideon still lingered in some freakish limbo betwixt life and death. If anyone bothered askin' Jayne's opinion—not ruttin' likely—he'd recommend bumping the boy off ship at the next port. Kid was trouble, Alliance kind at that. He didn't like the way River looked on the boy neither, like she was somehow tied to him, the pair bred from the same stock.

Carly snuck up on Mal from behind, grabbed his shoulders. Girl was brave, Jayne had to give her that. Not many had to balls to sneak up on the cap'n. Those that did, was liable to get a punch in the jaw for their efforts. But Mal just yelped, tugged her into a headlock, which for him prolly passed for affection.

"Brat," he muttered, shoving her playfully away.

"Simon says he's a good chance," she said, face sobering as she eyed

Gideon through the glass.

"We'll see." Mal gave her a sideways glance. "Still intent on leavin' us, I see."

"You won't even miss me. Full house again, huh, Brother?"

"You know, when I bought this heap, I actually worried she was too big for us. Couple loners like me and Zoe—what were we gonna do with all these bunks? Nowdays, ship's like a ruttin' motel."

"You could always ask Inara to bunk with you," she suggested sweetly. "Free up a room."

"Nara and her dresses move in, I'd hafta sleep out in the hall."

"Do you know, Malcom, you're painfully stubborn."

"Did hear that rumor," he admitted. In a spontaneous gesture--the

kind Jayne had only seen him show towards Kaylee and Raven--Mal leaned

down and kissed his sister on the head.

"I'll be okay, Malcom."

"Yeah. Yeah, 'spect you will."

Jayne wandered away, leaving them.

In the morning, they dropped Caroline off on Boros. Jayne didn't ask her to stay.

---

Inara smiled warmly, motioned for the slender girl to sit.

"Would you like some tea?"

River frowned, lay a hand over her belly. "Threw up before."

"Are you sick?" Concerned, Inara pressed the back of her hand to River's forehead. Satisfied, she helped her onto the bed. "Some tea will settle your stomach, sweetie."

"Just a headache. Thank you," she added when Inara pressed the steaming mug to her palm.

"Of course." Inara sat on the bed, curling her legs beneath her. "Lay your head back in my lap. Close your eyes." With her fingertips, she kneaded River's temples in slow circles.

"Better?" she asked after a few moments.

"Too much noise." She opened her eyes, met Inara's upside down. "Tell me a story? Wanna hear your voice instead of theirs."

Inara didn't ask to whom River was referring. She just stroked skillful hands over River's head, began to speak in a tone soft and soothing.

"When I was little, my father brought home gifts when I was ill. Books of fairy tales, shiny new dolls."

River rolled her eyes.

"You were a girly-girl."

Inara laughed.

"I suppose I was that." With her fingers, she combed the younger girl's hair back from her face. "I thought the stories true, princesses and princes, young women and men bound forever by their love. In my play, the dolls were fair maidens locked in tall towers. They waited for years, their beauty withering, their long hair turning white..."

"Men are always late," River murmured.

Inara smiled.

"Some men," she agreed. "I don't imagine your brother's been late a day in his life."

"You went to the Guild to live the fairy tale." River's head throbbed, despite Inara's careful ministrations. She tried to rise above the pain, bury it down deep where it couldn't reach her. "Pretty gowns, pretty men."

"No, River. I went to the Guild because I knew it was all a lie."

"Captain's coming." River sat up. "He's hungry."

"We just had lunch," Inara said, amused.

"Not hungry for food."

River climbed the ladder, leaving Inara to mull over this last revelation. Mal lingered outside the door, as though debating whether to knock.

"Hi, Captain." She smiled.

"Hey, Lil' Albatross. You visitin' Nara? Was just come to borrow some o' that fancy tea she keeps; thought a cup might help me focus, and there's just no point in lyin' to you, is there, Little One?"

"No point at all," River agreed with a grin.

Mal shook his head, started down the stairs muttering about lack of privacy. But he was smiling. It was good to have his little mind reader back.

"Heard you were missin' me."

He carried Inara into the shower on his shoulder, slapping lightly at her backside when she squirmed.

"Quit wigglin', darlin'. You're only hurtin' yourself."

"I'm going to hurt you if you get this dress wet." But she slid her arms around his neck when he set her down, stretched on tip toe to reach his lips.

"Your eyes are beautiful, Mal." She tilted her head to better her view. "Clear blue."

"Okay, 'nough o' that." He slid off his suspenders and started unbuttoning his shirt. "You'll make me blush, kitten."

She turned around so he could unzip her dress, felt his big hands spread the fabric, glide over her flesh.

"What made you change your mind?"

"Hmm?" He was nuzzling at her neck while his fingers trailed possessively along her rib cage.

"I seem to recall you climbing atop your pedestal and refusing to sleep with me with my father aboard."

"Ain't sleepy," he answered, flipping on the shower jets.

She let him wash her hair even though he dripped shampoo in her eyes. But it felt good when he massaged her scalp, stroked a wet, soapy hand down the length of her torso and then ventured lower. She shaved his face with a safety razor.

"Down," he corrected, amused, when she tried to drag the blade upward.

She only nicked him once, kissed it better when he whined about getting cut on. She just smiled and poured some of her olive oil conditioner on his head.

"I ain't afraid of my feminine side, darlin'."

"Oh, I know," she assured him. "I remember that dress."

He shook his head at her, inclined his face under the hot spray to rinse his hair. She took the opportunity to slide down his body, drawing her lips along his nipples, his belly, the insides of his thighs.

"Tyen shioa duh," he murmured as she took him in her mouth. "Inara."

He fisted his hands in her slippery-wet hair, whispered oaths and endearments as she slid her lips over the hard length of him. She opened her eyes, saw his were squeezed tight, his body almost shuddering with sensation. She tasted him on her tongue, lips drinking in his lust. He almost never let her do this--just another Mal-specific eccentricity. Was it simply his unease with anything intimate? Did he find the vulnerability of this particular act too unnerving to bear? Or did he fear she'd regard him as a client: just another man to please?

"Oh, wuh de ma," he managed, letting out a groan that suggested he wasn't thinking much of anything.

After, he hauled her up by the arms, kissed her long and slow under the spray.

"Inara." He tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. "You know I...I..."

She kissed him to fill the silence.

He switched off the water, wrapped her in a fluffy towel and wound another around his waist. Still hugging her, he ushered them both into her bunk, stopped short when he saw Kaylee sitting on the bed, swinging her legs.

"Oh, God!" She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, Cap'n, I'm sorry. Heard the shower goin' and thought it was just Nara. I mean, I didn't know you was...well, you know, all wet and nekkid--"

"No, no." Mal held up a hand so she'd stop talking, grabbed for his waist when the towel slipped. "You stay right there, Lil' Kaylee. I'll just get dressed and--not be in this room." He grabbed his pants from the floor, nearly tripped in his rush to get back to the safety of the shower stall.

When he was gone, Inara sat beside Kaylee on the edge of the bed. The two exchanged a special glance, bit their lips to keep from giggling aloud. When they were more composed, Inara put her arm around the younger girl.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?"

Kaylee shrugged, lowering her head to Inara's shoulder.

"Well, yeah..."

"Did you and Simon have a fight?"

"No, not 'xactly..."

Inara's eyes twinkled.

"I need details, mei mei."

"Well, it ain't really for certain, but I think Simon wants me to--" Kaylee put her mouth to her ear, whispered in a voice so faint Inara strained to hear.

"Kaylee Tam!"

"You shocked?"

"No." Inara smiled. "I'm just teasing you, sweetie. Though I'm a little surprised at the doctor's taste."

"Trust me, Nara; I was plenty surprised my own self."

"And he told you this? Came right out and said it?"

"Well, no..." Kaylee danced her toes along the floor. "You know Simon. Took him a whole ruttin' year to sleep with me. I just think he's too shy to say nothin.'"

Inara raised a brow.

"Was River told me," Kaylee admitted.

"Wait, how would River...never mind, I don't think I want to know."

"So can I, Nara? Borrow stuff, I mean?"

"Of course. Be my guest." Inara motioned Kaylee toward her closet, adjusting the knot on her towel. "Though I'm not really sure I have...we'll find something."

Kaylee flashed a grateful smile.

---

Simon caught up with Mal after the evening meal. He found him on the bridge, slumped at the helm with his boots kicked off.

"Can we talk, Captain?"

"Oh, if we hafta." He sat a little straighter, motioned for Simon to sit in the vacant pilot's chair. "Speak your piece."

"It concerns Gideon."

"There been a change in the boy's state?"

"Nothing significant. That's sort of my point."

"You got a point, son?" Mal smirked, miming a look of surprise.

"We'll be passing by the Picadilly Moon on our way to Crighton; in fact, it's only a shuttle's ride away. An old friend from med-school runs a clinic in the Trocadero township. I'd like to take Gideon there for some tests."

"This friend o' yours. He share your crime-savvy ways?"

"We can trust him, Captain."

Mal stared out into the Black, not bothering to respond right away.

"You can take your patient, Doctor. On the condition that Zoe tags along." Zoe off ship, the little chick with her. That was good. Safeguards were good.

"No argument here."

"One further condition, Doctor. We keep this little side trip quiet, dong ma? No one needs to know 'cept you, Zoe and coma boy."

Simon nodded slowly.

"I won't be gone long."

"See that you ain't. Hell, I'd miss you, Doc."

Mal grinned as Simon rolled his eyes.

"Why do I doubt your sincerity, Captain?"

"Get outta here." Mal motioned him away with a wave of his hand. "Think your wife's lookin' for ya."

---

Kaylee lingered behind the screen, checking her reflection one last time in her hand mirror.

"I'm not comin' out till you close you eyes."

"They're closed."

She peeked her eyes around the corner, saw curious baby-blue ones peering back at her.

"Simon!"

"Okay, sorry!" Dutifully, he shut his eyes, leaned his head back against the pillows. "They're closed now, I promise."

Kaylee adjusted Inara's top--just a bit on the snug side--and stepped out from behind the curtain. Envisioning herself sultry as the former Companion, graceful as her sister-in-law, Kaylee crossed the room. She climbed atop the bed, swiveled to sit on Simon's hips.

"'Kay, open up."

He opened his eyes, lips already curving into a grin. When he saw her, he blinked once, twice, his jaw gone slack. Kaylee's upper half was outfitted in a tight white blouse, starched to crispness and tied just under her ribs. A short blue-and-green plaid skirt barely covered her bottom, and white knee socks ran the length of her legs. He was painfully aware of her lack of underwear, seated as she was atop his pelvis. She'd tied her thick brown hair back in a high ponytail that dripped down over the Nehru collar of her blouse.

"Well?" When he just gaped, she patted self-consciously at her hair. "What's a' matter, honey? I get it wrong?"

"W-well. N-no. I guess I'm just not sure why you're dressed like...a Catholic school girl?"

Kaylee punched him lightly in the arm, smiled.

"For you, silly."

"For me," he repeated.

"It's okay, Simon. I know." She bent forward to nuzzle his neck, biting softly at the skin above his collar bone. "Do you wanna, like, spank me up or something?"

Simon caught her around the waist, pushed up gently.

"Shah muh?"

"It's okay, honey. You're my husband now. I wanna, you know, meet all your desires. So take me, Simon. Have your wild way with me...or should I call you Principal Tam? "

"Kaylee..." Simon opened and closed his mouth several times. "Are you drunk?"

"Just on love."

"Kaylee--"

"Aw, Simon, you don't gotta be embarrassed or nothin'. I understand."

"That's good," he said slowly. "Because I'm rutting lost."

"I like when you swear," she admitted. "Gets me all hot inside." She leaned down to nip at his lips.

"Kaylee...you know I think you're beautiful--in anything, actually. But...did I do something to make you think I wanted all this?"

The features of Kaylee's face shifted subtly from confusion to realization to blind rage.

"I'm gonna murder him." Kaylee sat straight up. "That's all there is to it."

"Violence. That's different. Murder whom?"

"Weren't River's idea, I'm sure. This little plot's got the much-bigger handprints of our fearless leader."

"Mal planned this? I don't know, Kaylee..."

"You don't think he'd do it?"

"Oh, I'm not putting it past him. It's just that Mal's plans never actually...work."

"Murder. Maybe with somethin' sharp."

"That sounds fair," Simon agreed. "Of course, Mal's not going anywhere. You could kill him in an hour. Or two..."

"Simon--"

"Listen, bao bei. I don't need...Catholic school girls or, or spanking...All I need...Kaylee, all I want, is you." Right now, he realized.

"Aw, Simon." She snuggled down against his chest, wrapping her arms round his waist. "You want me to keep the knee socks on for sex?"

"Oh, God, yes." He captured her mouth on a moan and rolled her over into the blankets.

---

She kept it nestled in velvet, tucked in the bottom drawer of her jewel case. Beneath, he found his sketch of her, amateur charcoal lines revealing the artist's own longing more than the true features of her face. In nearly three years, he'd given her nothing more. An old stone on burnished chain, a scrap of paper. Neither amounted to protection, security, heart nor home. She was above him, better than…what twist of fate made her his? He slid the ruby in the pocket of his trousers, felt it coil as a snake against his thigh. Nara would hate this, Mal invading her private space, meddling amongst her things.

He found Kaylee in her usual spot, half-hidden under the engine, toes tapping along to a rhythm only she could hear.

"A word, Missus Tam?"

"I'm not speakin' to you jus' now, Cap'n Meany."

He supposed it was better than Captain Tightpants.

"Hey, I got rules 'bout people singin' on my boat. Boy was askin' for it."

Kaylee swore at him in particularly-colorful Mandarin.

"And River? How'd you get that sweet little girl over to the dark side?"

"Believe she mentioned somethin' 'bout wantin' to be a bridesmaid."

"Oh."

She sounded so guilty he almost grinned.

"Come on out now or I'm crawlin' in after you." He waited while she shimmied reluctantly into view, engine grease staining high-cut cheeks. She didn't look particularly cheersome this morning.

"Well?" he asked, dangling the necklace in her palm. "How soon can you have it ready?"

Kaylee turned the pendant in her hands.

"Ain't exactly my specialty, you know." She shrugged, scratched an itch on her nose that left a grease dollop on the tip. "Hour or two."

"That's why I pay you the big bucks."

"Cap'n? Still feel kinda funny 'bout this…."

"That's why you're the sweet one, Lil' Kaylee." He started for the door. "And I'm Captain Meany."

---

From behind, Mal slid his arms around her, locking his hands at her waist.

"Feel like a walk, kitten?"

Inara turned, flashing Mal a look that very clearly suggested he not call her kitten just then.

"I suppose you think you're hysterical, teasing poor Simon and Kaylee that way. Neen hen boo-tee-tyeh duh nan-shung."

"You know, I actually think we did the boy a favor."

Inara rolled her eyes, though her lips were curving.

"You're incorrigible."

"But...cute right?"

"Don't you have captainy business somewhere? Why don't you leave so I can wash my hair."

"I feel like a walk. By the by, found this up on the bridge." He let the ruby necklace coil into her palm. Her free hand flew to her neck.

"I--I'm not usually so careless with my things." She twisted her hair so he could fasten the clasp. "I can't imagine how I left it..."

"No harm done," Mal said guiltily. "Now 'bout that walk..."

"I--I think I'm still mad at you." But she seemed distracted now, fingering the ruby at her throat.

"Darlin', if we waited for a time when you wasn't mad at me, we wouldn't take that walk' till we're eighty."

She shook her head, amused.

"You think about that? Us and...old age."

"When I get a quiet moment, which amounts to once or twice a year."

"I--what do you see?"

"Oh, dentures, shuffleboard. Me and you rollin' around all white-haired and wrinkly."

"Oh, God," she said, laughing. "How romantic."

"Darlin', romance is my middle name."

She let him take her arm, lead her toward the door.

"Growing old always seemed...undesirable. I never really planned for it."

"Cupcake, you're on the right boat."

---

She couldn't fight anymore. Words like barbs, voices needling, nudging: the pain was excruciating. Dull-eyed and dizzy, she gave in, stumbled down the halls in search of her brother.

"Simon?" she whispered, sounding more like his little sister than a grown woman. Didn't she want to be a woman? Now she wasn't sure. "Simon?"

She longed for his gentle mannerisms, his eyes soft and sympathetic as he arranged her in a chair, brushed back her hair with cool and steady hands to check her forehead for temperature. He'd give her an injection for the pain, pills maybe. Soon she'd be floating, the headache a distant memory. She didn't like the gray sluggishness that set upon her brain; still, she'd go mad if this kept up. Madder. Through her haze, she smiled.

"Simon?" she murmured again. The infirmary was deserted. Gideon was gone.

---

The morning star beat hot and heavy over the landscape. Mal lowered his suspenders, unbuttoned his shirt to the waist. He caught Inara smiling.

"I'm sorry, darlin', my makin' you uncomfortable? Or is the sight of my manly chest in naught but an undershirt just too hard to resist?"

"Somehow I'll manage," she said dryly.

"How 'bout you? Ain't you sweatin' under all those layers?"

"A lady doesn't sweat, Mal. She glows."

"Ohhh. Well." He scooped her off her feet then, pleased when she shrieked. He dropped them both to the ground, kissed her till she was breathless.

"You're deranged," she managed.

"Have heard that theory. So this is Crighton. Not a bad stretch of Earth-that-Was."

"How long does my father intend us to remain here?"

"Just till week's end, said he'd hear from his contacts by then."

She rested her head on his chest, soothed by his heart's steady beat.

"And then?"

"Don't rightly know," Mal admitted. "Ain't for you to worry on, though. I'll figure somethin'."

"I shouldn't worry my pretty little head, then." She met his eyes, amused. "I'll just leave the planning to the menfolk."

"Always thought your head kinda on the large size," he said mildly. "Whoa, now. No tickling! That's just mean." He managed to catch her hands, trap them between his. "Hey, now, did you hear something?"

"Oh, no. I'm not falling for that--"

He pressed a hand to her lips.

"Listen a minute, I think I--"

His body slumped forward over hers, and she screamed.

---

They stormed the ship; she didn't make a sound. Someone had disabled her alarms.

Jayne got off two rounds before they hit him with a stun gun. The blast had him sprawling to his knees, cracking his head on the metal floorboards. Through his haze, he saw clean pants and good shoes pace.

"She's in the infirmary."

"And the boy?"

"He should be there as well. He's comatose, as indicated in my last report."

"River." Jayne growled the name through gritted teeth before everything went white.

---

Kaylee couldn't find Simon, not nowhere. Zoe was gone too, taking little Raven with her. She didn't fight when two purple-bellies grabbed her by the arms, frisked her hurriedly before leading her into the infirmary. River sat on one of the beds, her eyes lowered to slits, chin resting in her hand.

"River," she murmured. "Oh, God."

One of the feds shoved Kaylee forward, sent her sprawling down beside her sister-in-law.

"Couldn't hear over the whispers. I couldn't!"

"Oh, sweetie," Kaylee whispered, smoothing River's hair back from her glistening face.

The others were arguing, their voices strained with checked fury.

"You were intended to weaken her, Mr. Serra. We couldn't even get the manacles on her."

"Please understand that I hold you and your employers in the highest regard. So it is with great deference that I say the following. You're all fools. The Tam girl's abilities grow daily. I had to double my efforts with the subliminal broadcaster just to keep her from finding me out. Even then, it seemed only to cause her pain, headaches and the like. The creation has surpassed her creator; you'll never be able to control her."

"With all due respect, Mr. Serra, we no longer mean to try. You've done your part. Take the companion and leave us."

Vern hesitated, as though on the verge of saying more. At the last moment, he changed his mind.

"Where is my daughter?"

"On your ship."

"And the captain?"

"He's in our custody. You needn't concern yourself with the details. Thank you, Mr. Serra."

Vern nodded slowly, eyeing the Tam girl, the wide-eyed mechanic who'd befriended his child.

"Do you mean to kill the others?"

"Their fates lie not in your hands. Good day, Mr. Serra. You've done your part; our association ends here."

With a last glance at Kaylee, Vern left the room.

One of the feds spoke into his hand 'com.

"Alright, we're clear here."

They came then, a trio of fresh-faced youths, clean and shiny with pale blue body armor and stockings and matching white boots. At first glance, Kaylee thought they resembled River, slim-bodied and smooth-skinned and very young. Two boys and one girl. Not a gun or sword amongst 'em.

All three watched River, but they weren't lookin' at her like a girl. They didn't look scared or pleased or anything, and long as she looked, Kaylee couldn't pull a single human emotion from their gaze. They didn't have the look of people. They looked like weapons.

The one with the long brown ponytail stepped forward.

"Hello, River."

"Project Odysseus. Class Alpha-Alpha. 1487-01-01-06. 1487-01-01-02, 1487-01-01-11." River addressed them all in turn, speaking to the one with the long pink scar last. It ran the length of his face, from eye to chin.

"The mark--you didn't have it before," River murmured.

"We're here to bring you home, River." The blond boy stepped forward, extended a hand. "That is the end. The means are yours to choose."

"Will you come willingly?" Scar asked.

River shook her head.

"Not this time."

---

She strode down the ramp ahead of them like a creature of uncommon bravery and preternatural grace. Gone was the frightened girl-child; in her place stood a warrior. A girl-warrior in flowy pink skirt and combat boots.

Kaylee watched River survey the three figures arranged before her. She didn't need Simon's med-acad training, Inara's innate intuition, to know somethin' weren't right here. The subliminal whatever-it-was mayn't have had its desire effect. Still, the headaches left her weak, weary. In the moonlight, River's smooth skin took on the pale sheen of death, her eyes glowing with a wild, unnatural luster. The girl was hurting.

"Honey, no," Kaylee murmured helplessly.

River just met Kaylee's eyes, her own an apology. She moved into the clearing, further and further from Serenity. The three circled River like pack animals, intent on naught but the capture of their prey. River tried to keep spinning, maintain visual for at least two of the trio.

Couldn't she anticipate their blows, sense the coming shifts and turns 'fore they came? Kaylee didn't pretend to understand the mystery that was River's brain. But she knew this weren't right. No matter her movements, the trio maintained a perfect equilateral triangle, with River at its center.

When the attack came it wasn't like something men did. Too cool, too methodical: a hand squeezing a grape with the sole intention of extracting its juices. The trio functioned as a unit, three fingers working as one to pop the meaty center, break the fruit. River could deflect one member, maybe even two. But three, coordinated attacks—Kaylee missed the deaths of Shepherd and Wash, wasn't herself privy to their final gasping breaths. And she thanked God and Buddha for that. The idea of watching Simon's sister die had the bile rising in her throat.

Later, curled in her hammock, Kaylee would marvel at how badly this battle--this one in particular, apart from all the others--shook her. Finally, she got it, in the quiet morning hours, while she warmed her cold bones under the shower spray, cried salty tears as her shoulders heaved. Usually, folk had motive for beating the go suh outta one another. Power. Coin. Old and bloody grudges. Fists flown in anger, bullets strewn in heat. This fight was horrible because it was so ruttin' stolid. The trio didn't hate River, didn't wish her pain or harm. But they was still willin' to stomp on her face if it came to that. That was the power of the Alliance.

Ponytail struck first, coming in high-right with quick jabs to her face. While Scar tried to sweep her legs from the left, Blonde snapped a swift, cutting sidekick at her kidneys. River swerved left, hopping over the leg sweep, only to find her head directly in the path of Scar's fist. She managed to reel back, but even the glancing blow was enough to disorient. They never let up none, refused to tire. The next attack came high-low again with another crisp leg sweep by Scar, a coordinated flying-spinning- back-kick by Blonde. River jumped between them, tucking her long, limber body into a ball to avoid the two-pronged attack. She lashed out in desperation, wanting it stopped, wanting it over. She stomped her combat boot hard on Scar's ankle, applied an upward pressure to Blonde's leg. Kaylee saw the one with the ponytail strike out with side kicks, winced as River doubled over, shielding her rib cage with her arms.

It lasted mere minutes but felt to Kaylee an eternity. The yellow-haired boy beset upon River next, snapping a long kick to her ribs. His robust leg recoiled, snaked out for a second strike only to be met by River's hands. Tightening her grip, River twisted her attacker's leg. Blonde used the momentum to spin his lithe, elastic body on a long axis, intending to turn that energy into a kick. River reversed her turn while Blonde was still rotating in the air. A sickening crunch sounded through the still morning air as River shattered her former classmate's knee. Kaylee just stared, unable to blink for illogical fear that her slip would cost River.

As the blond boy crawled away on his knees, the one with the scar seized River's wrist, yanking her away from his fallen comrade. He jerked her face into direct line with his fist. River heard rather than felt her nose shatter against his knucklebones. Then it came: hideous, glaring pain that had her doubling over with nausea. Kaylee watched the blood streak down River's beautiful face, coating that lovely, white skin, and wanted to scream. This girl—her sweet, sensitive sister-in-law—shouldn't be here, party to this. Weren't right, her doing these things, suffering this life. This girl should be dancing somewhere, spinning in a pretty dress while the boys watched longingly from the sidelines, felt their new short-pants grow tight in the crotch. Scar spun her in close for a curved knee strike before shoving her away.

Between the broken nose, cracked and battered ribs, River was having trouble breathing. For the first time, the two Odysseus-Alpha-Alphas betrayed an emotion: shock. Neither could believe this slip of a girl was still standing. The one with the ponytail threw a short punch, which River caught, held fast. She twisted her arm until they were standing in a clinch, stunned the young woman with a scorpion kick to the head followed by a blow to the back of the leg that sent the her stumbling to her knees. Locking the other girl's right wrist in both her hands, River hooked her right leg behind his head and pushed. Ponytail resisted for mere seconds before River tore her rotator cuff to shreds. A hammerfist to the base of his skull dropped the gasping woman face-first in the dusty landscape.

River tried to drag a wheezing breath through her searing lungs, and Scar saw his opportunity. He had a running start into his flying side kick and there was no time for her to dodge. Even in a parry, River couldn't deflect enough energy from his kick to protect herself. The snap of her forearm sounded like a gunshot to Kaylee's ears. The pain had River retching, and she sank to her knees, wet, curling hair falling forward to curtain her face.

"Stay down, River," the one with the scar entreated, in a voice so pleading that Kaylee gaped.

River made deliberate eye contact with Scar before planting her foot on the ground to rise. His foot swung up, then down in whirling arc. The axe kick snapped her tibia.

"Stay down…Please."

When River made yet another attempt to rise, Scar collected all his wiry body's power into a haymaker punch to the side of River Tam's head.

Even River couldn't force herself to endure under this much punishment; for once her body overruled her awesome mind, and the world went black.

---

Mal woke strapped to a stretcher, hands bound in his lap.

"Nara." His throat burned, tongue dry and swollen. "Inara."

"Rest, Mr. Reynolds."

"Not...gorramn...likely," he managed. Where were they taking him? If he lifted his head, squinted hard, he could make out a clearing in the distance. There was a ship, gleaming in the morning sun. "Where my goin'?"

A voice, calm and melodious.

"Dope him."

The last thing Mal saw was his own shuttle, gliding down through the treetops.

"Angels," he murmured reverently before the darkness overtook him.

---

Fight by Grimlock


	15. Chapter 15

---

Inara woke with her face in the dirt. She pushed herself up with her hands, gravel filling her fingernails. She lifted her head and saw her father.

"Easy," he intoned.

She blinked at him, struggling to draw breath in through her parched throat. For a wild moment, she thought she might laugh. Easy. She couldn't recall the last time her life had been that.

"Where's Mal?" She struggled to stand.

"Go easy, my little gypsy. You're still feeling the effects of the drug." He reached hesitantly for her shoulders, winced when she jerked away.

"Don't touch me." She was a woman of elegance, mystery and allure. She wouldn't abide this and commanded her eyes to say so. "I'm no longer a child, Father. You've no right kidnapping me like one."

"Inara." He suddenly looked his age, a weary old man with too many regrets. "I only want to save you."

She felt her fingernails bite into the soft flesh of her thighs, forced her hands to lay still at her sides.

"And the crew of Serenity? What of them?" What of Mal...

"Federal officers ambushed your ship. They took your captain, along with the girl. I imagine the others will be...dispatched."

"Dispatched?"

"That firefly's done the Alliance a world of trouble, my daughter."

She shook her head slowly.

"No...they're innocents! Oh, God, Kaylee..." she whispered.

"Forgive me, child. I had to bargain. " He squeezed her hands hard enough to bruise bone. "Their lives in exchange for yours. Elsewise, they'd have killed you too."

"Ren si de fo zu." Her hand flew to her throat in a subconscious gesture, circled Mal's pendant.

"Inara. Don't you see?--I had no choice."

"There's always a choice."

"And now I'm giving you yours."

"Shah muh?"

"We'll wait here in the woods, you and I, until the last Alliance ship breaks atmo. Then I'll give the decision over to you, my dear."

"No, we have to go now. They could be killed by then!"

"And I won't see my only child delivered into the hands of killers. We'll wait here together, bao bei. I don't relish the thought, but I'll hit you if I must."

She met his eyes, her own lit with an amber fire.

"Men who put hands on me against my will tend to suffer unpleasant fates."

He regarded her sadly.

"I think I'm already resigned to such a fate."

---

Gorrammit, he was cold. He shivered violently, rubbed his hands over his arms in an ardent effort to get warm. What in the nine hells had Kaylee done to his boat? For that matter, where -was- his little mechanic? Where was everybody? Literally twitching from the chill, Mal wandered the empty halls in search of his crew. Not nobody in the kitchen, loitering by the table. The bridge was equally deserted. Finally, he made his way down to the infirmary. That's where he found her, dark skin slick with sweat, breath puffing like spun cotton against the cold. Her chest was wide open.

"Zoe!" Mal tore off his shirt, not bothering with the buttons. He pressed the fabric where the blood pumped. "Zoe, you stay with me, hear? Hold this tight while I find the doc."

"It's too late, Mal."

He spared the blond man a glance before covering Zoe with a thick brown blanket.

"Shut up, Wash." He threw a desultory glance at the door. "Doctor!"

"It's okay, Mal." Wash slid down from the counter top and approached the table, eyes reverent. "She's home. They're all home."

"You leave her, Wash! Ai ya, that's an order, son!"

But Zoe was rising, climbing out of her tattered body like a thing of grace. All toned flesh and long-limbs, she sprung into her husband's outstretched arms.

They made out like teenagers, impervious to the cold.

Mal shook his head, draped Zoe's bloodstained blanket around his shoulders.

In the distance, he heard a baby cry.

"Even dead you two are makin' me sick."

"You gotta admit there's a kinda humor in this, Mal. After all your lectures 'bout shipboard romances and the like, all your warnings and grumblings and you're the one raisin' my kid. Howdya like them apples?"

"I don't...apples?"

"Gonna be fine, Sir. You're gonna be a good daddy."

"Gorrammit, Zoe. You promised to be the one teach her 'bout the female stuff."

"I know it, Sir. I'm sorry."

"Hell, Zoe. I love you." He was almost crying now, fighting to hold it inside. "Ai ya, I shoulda told you that before."

"Always been a little slow on the uptake, Mal." Wash grinned.

"You weren't 'sposed to up and die on me, gorrammit. I didn't authorize that."

"I'm sorry 'bout that, Sir."

"Never could follow orders worth a damn."

"I'm a rebel, Sir." Zoe smiled. "You take care of my baby girl, Captain."

"You're goin?" His voice was breaking again; he took a breath, reigned it in tight.

"We'll be around, Sir."

"But first..." Wash nibbled at Zoe's ear. "Think there's a naked beach calling our names, Captain."

"Lazy bunch o' insolents."

River was watching from the doorway, head bent, eyes all-knowing.

"You," he murmured.

Mal woke with a start, gasping for air. Was just his gorramn mind playin' tricks. They weren't all dead, couldn't be. Surely Zoe and the doc arrived in time...

He tried to sit up, found himself restrained by metal bracelets cuffing his hands to the headboard. Shun-sheng duh gao-wahn, he was cold. He glanced down, realized the chill likely stemmed from his lack of pants. They'd taken his clothes, replaced them with a hospital smock that skimmed his knees.

"Oh, but that don't bode well," he muttered.

He glanced around the room, searching for a tool, a means of escape. It was all white walls and windowless, just the bed he found himself in and a strong steel door. There was only one course to take; he just hoped to hell she was listening.

"River?" He cleared his throat, tasting the blood from his split lip. "River?"

He closed his eyes and called out to her with his brain, soundless, wordless. Not nobody accused Malcom Reynolds of being eloquent, but he couldn't figure for the life of him how to talk to a person without words.

Drained, he threw his head back against the pillows, inhaled long and slow. He froze when he heard the door click.

"Hello, Captain."

A woman, short red pixie cut, white uniform.

"Dr. Heller didn't expect you up so soon."

"Yeah, I'm full of surprises. Where am I?"

"Sanctuary." She slid up to his bed on a rolling chair, took his pulse with her fingertips. "Relax, Mr. Reynolds. No one intends you pain."

Mal glanced pointedly at the metal bracelets. The woman smiled.

"Try not to dwell on those." She dipped a swab of cotton in ointment, smoothed it gently over his blackened eye. "We want you to be comfortable."

"Do ya now? I always feel more comfy in my pants."

She just smiled, patted his knee.

"I'm just going to give you a tiny injection." She pushed up the hospital smock to reveal a stretch of thigh. "It won't hurt a bit."

"That's what they all say," he muttered.

He felt the drug kick in almost immediately. Within moments, he was basking in a gentle euphoria. The ginger-haired nurse lingered; he could hear her moving about. But he couldn't quite bring himself to fret overmuch. Not when Inara smiled up at him, those bewitching brown eyes coy, those warm lips soft and peachy-gold, melding into his as they made love. How could he worry when everything was so very shiny?

---

She was hollering when Jayne got there. Her mama had hid her away in a basket beneath the seat. Hadn't seen no choice when her and Simon landed, saw the ambush. Was ruttin' lucky, them bein' off ship, takin' the boy to some fancy head shrink. A lack of book-learnin' didn't make Jayne nobody's fool. If'n the doc and Zoe hadn't shown when they did, Jayne knew he'd have a hole in his brain 'bouts now. Else he'd be broken to bits like the little witch. Kaylee couldn't stop cryin'. Didn't matter how much the doc held her; just kept right on sobbin'. Jayne tried givin' her a gentle hand put, but that just made her sob harder.

Zoe was gettin' her leg sewn up where a bullet skimmed her thigh.

"Jayne? Go get my baby."

He left the others in the infirmary, wandered out to the shuttle. Gideon slept like the dead, or mostly dead anyways, not the least bothered by Raven's hollerin'. When he picked her up, she stopped shriekin'. Her dusky skin glowed red with fury at being left, her round brown eyes squeezed tight with rage. When he took her to his chest, she hiccuped and gasped out a few more sobs, settled at last with her face in his neck. He carried her inside, offered the wriggly bundle to Zoe, who seemed scarcely to notice.

"That'll do, Doctor," she announced, standing to test her balance. "You and Jayne go dock the shuttle; Kaylee'll help me prep for upthrust. 'Liance could well send backup, seein' as we killed some of theirs, and I want off this rock 'fore they do."

"Wait." Kaylee wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks. "What 'bout Nara?"

Zoe and Simon exchanged glances.

"Her daddy could have her three worlds away by now, honey."

"Not Nara. She'd never go."

"Ain't sayin' the girl's weak, Kaylee." Zoe shrugged. "Odds are he drugged her, took her unwilling."

"She'd fight, though! Simon? Tell 'em. Nara's never let herself get…lost…oh!"

She slapped a hand on Zoe's chest, squeezing her fingers around the ever-present circular pendant. Misty eyed, she stroked the worn strap of leather from which it dangled.

"Sometimes there's a reason the captain's the captain."

"Uh huh." Zoe watched the younger girl suspiciously. "Kaylee, there a reason you're feelin' me up?"

---

They found Inara at dusk, glassy eyed from the drug but otherwise calm and collected. She said her father was gone and seemed unwilling to elaborate. Simon diagnosed dehydration and exhaustion, explained that the headache stemmed from the chloroform and prescribed a mild pain reliever.

Kaylee lingered in the hallway while Simon examined her, burst in as soon as he finished and flung herself in Inara's arms.

"It's okay, mei mei," Inara murmured, clinging gratefully. "You found me."

"No, it ain't," Kaylee whispered. "Everybody keeps leavin'. First the Shepherd, and then Wash. Now the cap'n and River's gone too. Not like we got much out here, not like we're rich or fancy or spoiled. Why's they gotta go and take more?"

Having no response to that, Inara just stroked her hair.

---

Her body screamed in pain; River herself was silent. The doctors murmured soothingly while they worked, cleansing her bruised face, wrapping her cracked ribs in layers of tape. She ignored their gentle words and wished for a pistol. -Bullet in the brain pan--squish.- And afterwards--divine numbness. Simon would tell her not to say such things. But Simon wasn't here, didn't see.

The medicine crept through her body now, bending around elbows, spreading to touch her toes. She didn't even feel them cast her broken forearm, set the bone in her left leg with an external fixatorw. After, dazed and destroyed, she hoped they'd leave her, let her slip into shivery, anesthetized sleep.

But, no, they hadn't yet consumed her. They demanded more, wouldn't be sated till the River ran dry, nothing remaining. Broken, she let them take and take. Parts of a whole. Half a soul. Giver of life, reaper of death. Something pressed at the edges of her consciousness. Captain. She closed her eyes instead of answering.

---

His absence was tangible, something missed with all five senses and maybe a couple new ones. Though it guilted her to admit it, she felt River's loss less. The girl had been gone more than not this past year, and in her silent, stoic way, Zoe knew they'd never stop comin' for her. Still, she had no intention of makin' it easy for the ta ma de hwoon dan. They might get her in the end, but Zoe planned on them bleeding plenty for their efforts.

The others lounged around the dining common in varying degrees of inertia. Inara sat motionless on the sofa, face pale save the glowing-yellow bruise on her cheek. A gift from her no-good father, Zoe figured. If the captain saw it, he'd find Vern Serra and rip him limb from limb. But the captain weren't here. Kaylee lay with her head in Nara's lap, knees dangling idly over the sofa arm.

Zoe assumed the women were minding her baby girl, was surprised to find the child in Jayne's care. She napped snuggled against his broad chest, her tiny bottom resting on his muscular forearm, her face crinkled in sleep. With his free hand, Jayne patted her back, making Zoe wonder just who was comforting whom.

"Ahem." Zoe cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, we havin' a wake, here?"

"Zoe." Inara lifted her face; she wasn't wearing make up and looked about eighteen. "Is there any word?"

"Ain't heard back from Badger yet; was a long shot anyway. Gonna send out a few more feelers, maybe contact Monty." She shifted sideways to allow Simon entrance. "Seems they're already gathered, Doctor."

"What's goin' on?" Kaylee asked, sitting up.

"Doc's called a crew meetin'."

"Oh, hold up now. I know Mal's gone, but we ain't so low as to put the doc in charge."

"Shut up, Jayne. Speak your piece, Doctor."

"Right." Simon flashed Zoe a look of gratitude, stepped into the circle. His mind traveled back to the first time he addressed this crew, explained about his sister. "I have a plan. It's dangerous. It's risky. It may not work."

"That sounds like a plan of ours," Inara murmured. She met Simon's gaze, and they exchanged wan smiles.

"Before the ambush on Crighton, Zoe and I took Gideon to a friend on Picadilly Moon for a few tests. The results confirmed my hunch."

"What hunch, honey?" Kaylee asked.

"Gideon's coma lacks a medical basis. The swelling in his brain's gone down, there's no evidence of damage to the individual lobes. Physically, he should be capable of waking up on his own. My neurology background is scant at best, but I have no choice but to conclude his condition is psychological. To put it simply, he doesn't want to wake up."

"Well, who on this ruttin' boat does?" Jayne demanded. "Hell, there's days I'd just as soon stay in bed."

"Jayne," Kaylee murmured.

"What? Mal don't pay me to talk delicate. Not like things ever been easy-like, but we can all see plain they're gettin' worse. This is gonna end bloody, and anyone won't admit it's a gorramn fool."

"He's right," Simon said, his usually subdued voice stretching to fill the space. "This may very well end badly. I won't…bullshit anyone," he said, stumbling a little over the words.

The others watched him, eyes intent, expressions hopeful. They wanted him to propose a miracle. Hell, Mal's plans seemed downright prudent next to this deranged scheme. He was supposed to be a doctor, a man of science, logic, learning. Well, he supposed he'd learned a few things these past years. He learned that his baby sister was a psychic, that she could communicate messages to the living and converse with the dead, see future danger months before it transpired, and slip unhindered into Mal's head to deliver her warnings. Then: the strangest part. He learned that every person on this boat--well, mostly everyone--cared enough to risk life and limb for this girl, his baby sister. And for him. One another. Where was the science in that? Simon took a breath, began his speech.

"If in fact Mal and my sister are still alive, the young man lying in the infirmary knows where to find them. He's closer to the center of this than anyone. More trusted than Agent Gray, better informed than the Operative. BSB and the Alliance likely believe him an unwilling hostage; they've no call to doubt his loyalty. Gideon could fly a ship right into Blue Sun Central. He'd know landing coordinates, clearance codes."

"They'd scan us before giving the OK to land," Zoe murmured. "Extra bodies in the smuggling holds are sure to arouse suspicion."

"That's why Gideon waves them ahead of time, announces he's returning with three prisoners. We walk onto that compound as easy as…as…."

"--a one-armed whore," Jayne finished with a grin. "Only got one problem with this plan, Doc. What's to keep coma boy from sellin' us down the ruttin' river whence he's back among friends?"

"Nothing. We've no real notion of where his loyalties lie, and neither does BSB. That's both our greatest asset and our greatest weakness in this. That's why they'll allow him to land."

"But you believe we can trust him, Simon." Inara met his eyes, her own flat.

"My sister tends to inspire a certain loyalty. I suppose I needn't tell all of you that."

"One other issue, Doctor." Zoe raised a single brow. "Boy's still in the deep sleep, last I checked."

"I know...This is where it gets dicey."

"Wait." Inara held up a finger. "Presenting ourselves to BSB as prisoners isn't the dicey part?"

"I think I can reach Gideon. But for this to work, I have to be dead."

Kaylee's eyes went wide.

"Simon."

"It's okay, bao bei. It's just like Ariel. I'm going to suspend cerebral, cardiac and pulmonary activity in order to induce a proto-comatose state. While I'm out, I'm…gonna try to reach Gideon." Two years in the Black and it was finally happening; he was losing his mind.

Zoe shook her head.

"Ain't goin' down that way, Doctor."

"Shah muh?"

"Simon, be reasonable. You're the doctor. What would we do if something went wrong?" Inara stood up. "Anyway, it should be me."

"Aw, hell, Nara. Mal'd throw me out the airlock if I let you get yourself corpsified." Jayne shrugged. "Give me the knockout juice, could use a decent nap."

"Let me? You've no call to -let- me do anything, Jayne."

"No, but I do." Zoe motioned for her to sit. "Ship's mine till Mal gets back, Nara. I'm captain in his leave, and I say no."

"Think about this logically. Without intending offense, I'm more intuitive than the rest of you. I may have a better chance of reaching Gideon."

"Inara—"

"I'm not quite finished, Zoe. If anything happens…if something were to go wrong…Zoe, Mal will need you and Jayne at full strength. Kaylee needs to look to Serenity. It's not as thought I'd be much use with any of that."

For a moment no one spoke.

"Can everybody stop talkin' like we're all gonna die?" Kaylee burst out. "Ain't exactly good for morale, if you know what I mean."

Everyone began speaking at once, voices rising and falling, interrupting one another in their rush to be heard.

Zoe slammed her fist into the wall hard enough to draw blood.

"Anyone gonna talk to Gideon, should be me."

"Zoe—" Simon began.

"I'm sorry, any o' you screw him?" She smiled at the silence. "Didn't think so. Lead the way, Doctor."

---

Inara took the squirming baby from Zoe's arms, bounced her against her hips. She hadn't exactly call to hold many babies during her time at the Guild. It amazed her how well this one fit her body, conforming to her curves with the ease of her favorite silk gown.

"Zoe." Inara met the elder woman's eyes, her own solemn. "With all due respect for your authority in Mal's leave, I'm begging you to reconsider."

"Objection noted." Zoe lay back on the table, her dark curls spilling over her shoulders. "Feel free to lodge a formal complaint with the appeals' committee."

In spite of herself, Inara found her eyes twinkling.

"There is no appeals' committee."

"Convenient, ain't it?" Reaching up, she pressed a finger against Raven's hand, felt the tight fist close around it. "One o' these days, we oughta make you godmother in a more official capacity."

"Shah muh?"

"Honey, look at the other options. You got a better notion?"

"I—Kaylee and Simon—"

"—are kids. Babies themselves--not ready to care for one."

-You think I am?-

"Are we ready?" Simon asked.

"Let's do this," Zoe confirmed.

"You understand the dangers? Medically speaking, you'll be dead. And psychologically…."

"Psychologically, I'm taking a little trip."

"You might not come back," he said softly.

"I'll come back." She pushed up her sleeve. "He'll make sure of it."

"Gideon?" Simon asked.

"Not Gideon." Zoe closed her eyes, the smile curving her lush lips, setting her entire face at ease. "I'm coming, Baby."

---

"Time to wake up, Baby."

Zoe slithered down the mattress, pulling the sheet up over her head.

"Mmm," she murmured noncommittally, sinking deeper into the pillows.

"Do I have to come down there and get you?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Okay, but I warned you."

"Uh-huh."

She shrieked when cold hands caught hold of her bare torso, tickled furiously. "Husband, do you have a mind to lose those fingers?"

He sucked on hers by way of response. Burrowed under the covers, he smelled of cinnamon toothpaste and Core-planet aftershave, the latter being his one indulgence.

"Let's stay in bed all day," she murmured, drowsy and content to stay so. She trailed lazy hands over his chest and belly, dipped dangerously lower.

"Oh, wuh de ma, do I wish you didn't have somewhere to be."

He kissed her lips, and she was infused with cinnamon, warmth, Wash.

"You're wrong, Husband." She laid her head on his chest, felt downy tufts of hair tickle her ear. "I'm right where I should be."

"Angel. Devil. Angel. Devil. Gorramn angel." He tilted her chin up to meet his steady blue gaze. "Sweetie, what about Mal?"

She didn't blink.

"Screw 'em."

"Ah, yes, I've had that thought myself a time or two. And Ye Su knows someone should screw the man."

"Someone is," she said, yawning.

"Right. Inara."

"Left our little girl with her. Not the first time."

"You did good, Baby. Now I'm gonna help you get where you're going."

"Or…could just stay here. Stay with you." She traced his features with her fingers: eyes, nose, lips. She drew her knuckles over his cheek, reveled in the rough scraping sensation. She could stroke him till her skin wore away, till she bled. It would never be enough.

"We'll have our beach, Baby. I'll wait."

"You won't love me. I'll be wrinkly."

"Well, once the good doc kicks, we'll have him fix you up."

She laughed, slapping him with her palm.

"Few minutes won't hurt no one." Her tone sobered. "God knows we deserve this."

"Ah, my glorious Zoe." He slid on top of her, settling in the hollow between her thighs.

"Think you can be quick, Husband?"

Wash raised a brow.

"Sweetie, speed's my middle name. Wait, that sounded bad."

---

Inara sat back in the pilot's seat, soothed by the silence of Serenity at night. Hugging her knees against her chest, she lowered her face to their hollow. She never said the words. Would he have smiled and said them back? She liked his smile, a crooked smirk, precious for its dearth. She wanted to kiss that lopsided grin, suck gently at the full lower lip, feel his stubble sting her face. She ached to feel his hands on her, firm and frantic against the sensitive skin of her lower back. In a subconscious gesture, her fist closed around the ruby at her throat. In his own, infuriating way, he'd kept her safe.

"Dammit, Mal. Why couldn't you save yourself?"

Guilt. Rage. She preferred both to the alternative: grief. Weary, she rolled her forehead against her kneecaps, wishing she could rub out the pain. She wanted to sleep but was afraid she'd dream of him. Mal hurting. Mal dying.

"I love you, damn you," she whispered into the Black.

The cortex hissed and crackled, and for a moment she half-expected his face to appear: battered and bruised but still Mal. The man always did like to make an entrance.

Instead a woman's visage filled the screen. Heavy golden hair bundled back in a knot. Peaches-and-cream skin and tired gray eyes.

"Malcom? Are you there, Mal?"

Inara cleared her throat before speaking.

"He's...unavailable. Can I help you?"

"I need to speak to Captain Reynolds personal."

Inara squinted at the grainy image.

"I--do I know you?"

"Listen, honey, our cortex is in bad shape. Town got hit...reavers...satellite damage...Mayella...tell Malcom."

"Mayella from Bellerophon?

But she was staring at a blank screen.

---

Her flesh still flushed from the heat of his, Zoe found herself in her own bed. She swung her legs over the edge, noting for the first time her dress. Tortoise-shell green and slinky as hell. -Very funny, Husband.- She stood, hearing her heels click against the floorboards. When Wash was alive, she never wore heels. Fancy footwear hadn't much place in her line of work, and furthermore her mister had height issues. Clearly, he was feeling whimsical.

Shaking her head, she climbed the ladder. A deadly stillness settled like fog over Serenity's catwalks, haunted her abandoned halls. Zoe wandered the ship, searching for some sign of the boy. Hell of an irony, if he were here this whole time….

She scoured the cargo bay, rooting through the smuggling holds, the secret compartments. Nothing. When it finally dawned on her, she felt silly, sure that Simon, Inara, even the captain would have realized before her. Well, maybe not the captain. These mind puzzles really weren't her strong suit. She was a fighter, preferred war plots and weapons to brainteasers. Still, she knew he'd be there, felt it deep in her gut.

She opened the door, stepped inside.

"Gideon."

---

Was a doctor still a doctor in the Black? Was he still a doctor when he'd done this thing, disregarded all his medical training in some desperate attempt to save his sister?

She was his to protect; in a very real sense he was all she had. And now she was hurt, bleeding. She was broken, but to fix her he had to find her.

"Simon." Inara touched a hesitant hand to his shoulder, smiled her apology when he jumped.

"Inara. Is Kaylee...?"

"Sleeping. Finally."

"That's...that's good. She needed it."

"Yes." Her lashes swept over Zoe's prone form. "She's been out awhile."

"Three hours."

Inara lifted the woman's still hand between hers.

"She looks so peaceful."

"Inara, do you think Zoe...volunteered for this...because a part of her still wishes...still wants to...?"

"Yes." She met his eyes. "I think a part of her still wants to..."

"Do you think Mal knows?"

"He knows," Inara murmured. "Those two share an incredible bond." One forged in blood and war and survival. One forged in love.

"I shouldn't have let her do it."

"Simon." Her smile was gentle. "In a way, she's stubborn as Mal, as your sister. She knows her own mind."

"I put this in her mind."

"Mal trusted her to lead in his leave. We should do the same."

"Fifteen more minutes. Then I'm pulling her out...Inara, I'm sorry."

"For what have you to be sorry, Doctor?"

"My sister...she's an innocent in this. I gave her no choice when I took passage on Serenity. It's because of me that Book and Wash...all this suffering. And now the captain--"

"Simon." Inara brought a finger to his lips. "Hush. Wash and Shepherd Book cared deeply for your sister."

"Enough to give their lives for her? Somehow, I doubt anyone asked their consent."

"And surely they gave none. But your guilt adds nothing to their sacrifices, Simon. Neither does it soothe the souls of those left living."

"I only wanted to keep her safe. That's all I ever wanted."

"You're a good brother. A good husband. A good friend. We'll get through this, Simon. Somehow, we all will."

"Hey, you two." Kaylee wandered into the room, one hand over her lips to muffle the yawn. "What's the news? We got any yet?"

"They're still out, sweetie," Inara answered.

"I wonder where they are..." Kaylee leaned over Gideon's prone form, reached out to touch his cheek. "Looks so peaceful-like, just like he's asleep--ahhhh!"

Gideon bolted upright, and Kaylee sprang back, bumping the wall hard enough to bruise. Simon rushed forward to check the young man's vitals while Inara comforted Kaylee.

"Zoe," Gideon whispered through cracked lips. He seemed surprised to see the others, to awaken in this room of all places.

"I'm pulling her out," Simon decided, reaching for a syringe. A second later she was back, coughing and gasping, shoulders heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Simon held a trough beneath her chin while Inara pressed a cool cloth to her forehead.

"Zoe?" Kaylee patted her thigh. "You feel okay, honey?"

Zoe finished retching, rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand. When she met Kaylee's eyes, she was beaming.

"Feel just fine, Little Kaylee." She slid off the table. "Now I believe we got some crew need rescuin'."

---

Inara brewed tea. Kaylee whipped up a little dinner, though nobody felt much like eating.

"How's the boy?" Zoe asked as Simon joined the others at the table.

"Stable. Sleeping. A good doctor would recommend bed rest and relaxation rather than violence and treason. On the other hand, after today I should be more open to alternative therapies."

"Aw, sweetie you're a good doctor," Kaylee assured, rubbing his shoulder.

"Best one on the boat," Jayne snickered.

"Will he be strong enough to walk even?" Inara asked.

"Hump that, will he sell us out to his pals is the real question."

"Simon and I explained the situation, Jayne. Tomorrow, assuming he's still breathing, Gideon waves BSB, announces he's regained consciousness and taken control of the ship. We park Serenity in a secure location, and Gideon flies Jayne, Simon and me in on Shuttle 2 as prisoners. Meanwhile, Kaylee has Shuttle 1 ready and waitin'."

"And me?" Inara asked. "What's my role in this?"

Zoe met the younger woman's eyes.

"I'm hopin' you'll look to my baby, Honey. Take care o' the captain's." She slid her gaze over the ceiling, the familiar walls.

Inara nodded slowly.

"Anythin' happens and we don't make it out, you meet up with Kaylee in Shuttle 1. Then you take Serenity and get the gui outta this quadrant."

"And Gideon's sure they've got Mal and River at the facility on Ezra?" Inara asked.

"How's he know that if'n he's been mostly dead all month?" Jayne said, suspicious.

"But he seemed...sure?" Simon asked.

"He was sure," was all she said. The rest would remain unsaid. Dear God, she didn't wanna be the one had to say it.

"And they're just holdin' em?" Kaylee pressed. "They're okay?"

"They're alive," Zoe confirmed, averting her eyes. "Gonna stay that way too. Once we're on the inside, Gideon slips away and kills the power. We break outta the holding cell and locate the captain."

Jayne raised a brow.

"Guns?"

"Gonna need some," Zoe agreed. "Gideon says there's an arms locker on Floor 3." "Gideon says, Gideon says. Ain't he just all sorts of helpful these days?"

"He's all we have, Jayne," Inara said quietly.

"This is gonna go great," Jayne muttered.

Kaylee bit her lip.

"Do you think so?"

"Oh, yeah." Zoe sipped her tea. "Great."

---

The hand restraints musta been tied in to the main security feed. They released when the power tripped. Mal pulled his wrists free, jumped out of the bed before the manacles could reactivate. He tried the door, found it unlocked and slipped silently into the hall.

He didn't know where to find her. Cursing in ripe Mandarin, he flung open one door after another, scanning the rooms just long enough to conclude the sleeping bodies weren't the one he sought. Ta ma de, why wasn't she helpin' him? Most times he was chasin' the girl outta his head; felt all manner of strange coaxin' her back in.

-River. Ai ya, I ain't no psychic. You gotta gimme a clue, darlin'. Wuh de ma, gimme a gorramn clue.-

She picked a hell of a time to go all shy-like.

He heard footsteps down the hall, ducked into a doorway. Pressed against the wall, he watched six fine Alliance Federals shuffle past, hokey stun guns held at their hips.

He waited for them to pass, noticing for the first time the blue light blinking overhead. Security breach, it screamed silently. He had a sneaking sensation of who was doing the breachin'. Well, he didn't pay 'em to be subtle.

He followed the Feds down the corridor, creeping along the wall. Like Han Solo on the Goddamned Death Star. If Han switched his pants for a cotton gown. Ai ya, this was not his best day ever.

The guards outside the door gave away the show. Hell, it mighta been her name in big ruttin' type. Mal groped for his holster, came up with a fistful of white hospital smock and groaned. Definitely not his shiniest day.

He peered around the corner, appraised the two young purple-bellies with disdain. Two guards? -Two?- And they was guardin' the door more 'n the hall outside. Hell, maybehaps he'd gave these Blue Sun fellas too much credit.

He crept closer, feet soundless on the linoleum flooring. Damn if Blue Sun issue tube socks weren't quiet as a newborn kitten. Convenient, really. He took another step, slipped and had to grab the wall to stay upright. Okay, clearly traction wasn't his strong point here. Grace neither. Hoping he wasn't 'bout to fall on his face, Mal darted around the corner and grabbed the closer of the two. He snaked one arm 'round the boy's throat, used the other to lift the stunner pistol from his holster. The second guard, clearly a mite nervy, turned his own pistol on the struggling men and fired.

Guard One groaned as Guard Two hit him square in the chest.

"Nice one, they teach you that in Fed school?" Mal shook his head, threw the dazed man into his trigger-happy partner and watched both guards stumble to the floor.

"Gorrammit, if everything the Alliance does ain't half-rate." He hit them with a couple more stun blasts, threw a quick glance over his shoulder before dragging them into an empty room.

Mal started for the door, found his eyes wandering back to the prone forms on the floor.

"This really ain't personal," he muttered before pulling off the taller one's trousers.

--

She lay in the center of the bed, small and shivery as a nightmare-plagued child. Wide-eyed, she stared at the ceiling, her gaze hard enough to gouge holes. They hadn't bothered to restrain her, and she kept both arms stiff at her sides. She looked like a corpse.

-Ye su.-

He didn't know where to touch her, bruised and battered everywhere his eyes fell. Finally, he settled on her left hand, slid his fingers through hers.

"River." Then, more roughly, "Are you here?"

She turned then, her eyes guilt-stricken.

"I'm sorry, Captain."

"Whadda you got to be sorry for?" To be truthsome, he was just relieved to hear her voice.

"Tried to find you. Couldn't see over the screaming."

"Well, it's okay, see, 'cuz I found you." He scrutinized her small figure, trying to divine a way of carrying her with minimal pain. "Try and sit up now."

"I was dreaming. Tried to show them to you." A single tear slid down her cheek.

He sighed, suddenly exhausted.

"We gotta go, Lil' Albatross."

"Just leave me here." She closed her eyes. "Let me die."

"Hey." He squeezed her hand. "None o' that talk now. Need you to be brave, dong ma?"

She reached up to touch his face, stroked a hand over the Blue Sun logo on his borrowed tunic.

"This is gonna hurt, bao bei. I don't know how to hold you without it hurtin'."

She didn't answer. She was crying with her eyes closed.

---

Mal lowered the BSB cap over his eyes, pushed River down the hall on the stretcher.

"Gonna be back on Serenity in no time, Darlin'." He wheeled her out into the hallway, tried his ruttin' best to look official. "Just hang in there awhile longer, I'll have you back to your brother in no time."

"Less," she whispered.

"Huh?"

"Sir."

Mal actually jumped, turned to find most of his crew along with the Comatose Kid lookin' all sorts of awake.

"Oh, hey, now!" He exhaled long and slow. Simon's eyes fell on the stretcher. Wordless, he went to River's side.

"You okay, Cap'n?" Jayne asked while brother and sister spoke in undertones.

" 'Cept for the shavin' three years off my life part, I'm gorramn shiny."

"We done come to rescue you, Cap'n."

Mal nodded, scratched the back of his head.

"This the sorta rescue ends with us all in the lockdown?"

"Or hanged," Zoe offered. "Could be hanging."

"That there's a comfort." Mal nodded his head at Gideon, leaning bodily on Jayne. "I see Rip Van Useless's up and about. Well, sorta."

"I woulda gone with Sleeping Beauty," Zoe mused. "And boy ain't a total dud, Sir. Did get us this far."

"Huh. Maybe I'll just kick his ass the once then."

"What the hell's going on here?"

A man in a long white lab coat stood behind them, one hand hovering over his pocket. Mal could see the outline of a 'com there.

"Book Club?" Mal suggested.

Without a word, Jayne raised his gun hand, shot the doctor in the chest.

River's eyes drifted closed; even Zoe winced. Mal didn't say a word, just jerked his head toward the door.

"Let's move, people."

"Gideon?" Zoe met his eyes. "Which way?"

"Right. There's an exit past the cafeteria. The custodians use that exit to dispose of the refuse."

Mal and Zoe exchanged glances.

-Do we trust him?- Mal's asked.

-Do we have a choice?- Zoe's replied.

Mal gave a slow nod, helped Simon maneuver River's stretcher.

Zoe slapped her 'com in Jayne's hand.

"Wave Kaylee. Tell her to be ready with the shuttle."

---

While Jayne disparaged Kaylee's flying technique and Kaylee instructed him on where he could shove those opinions, Mal watched Simon tend to his sister. Doc had brought his med kit of course. Weren't much he could do on the shuttle, but he seemed determined to make her comfortable least. He pressed a couple pills to her lips, held a cup of water so she could swallow. Murmuring softly, he dabbed ointment on her bruised face, applied bandages to the fairly shallow cuts, wounds wouldn't need a weave.

"Sir." Zoe slid down the wall beside him.

"Mm," Mal murmured, eyes on Gideon. The boy watched River as well, from behind slitted eyes. Kid looked exhausted, as though the day's thrilling heroics had taken their toll. Probably this weren't part o' the typical post-coma recovery plan. "You wave Serenity? Tell her where on our way."

"I told Inara," Zoe said evenly.

"Good. That's good."

"Shouldn't o' been that easy, Sir." Her voice was a whisper, so as not to disturb the others. "Shoulda had more guards on her." More 'n a couple.

"I know."

"This ain't over, Sir."

"I know."

---

He found her in his bunk, curled in a ball with the baby beside her. He flipped on the desk lamp instead of the overhead flourescents, crouched by the bed to watch her sleep. A glowing yellow bruise spread over her cheek; an angry red scrape marred the perfection of her temple. Mal felt the heat sear his belly, wanted very much to feel that man's throat between his fingers. He meant it when he said he'd kill for her. Now he knew he'd refrain from killing as well. He'd lay his head in her lap like a gorramn slave, submit to all her whims and wills. He couldn't keep her safe. Hell, he didn't even know that he could keep her. But he had her today, tonight. In a way, that was everything.

She woke when he tried to lift the child, long, coal lashes blinking in confusion.

"Gonna return the little chick to her mama."

She nodded, reached for his hand in a Kaylee-esque gesture.

"Any new holes?" she murmured.

"Inara." He gave her his wounded look. "Criminal masterminds don't get shot."

She smiled, peachy-gold lips inviting.

"Of course, I withdraw the question."

"You, uh. You gonna be here when I get back?"

She raised a brow.

"Where would I go?"

When he returned, she was gone, leaving the scent of jasmine in her wake.

"Girl does keep a man on his toes," Mal muttered.

He sat on the edge of the bed, ran his hand over sheets still warm from the heat of her flesh. He unlaced his boots, Alliance issue and tight enough to have his toes cramping. He groaned a sigh of relief to be out of them, unbuttoned the pilfered gray tunic and tossed it over a chair. He was just reaching for his belt buckle when the knock sounded. Moments later her slender form descended the ladder, the skirts of her nightgown swirling about pretty little ankles.

For a moment, she just studied him from across the room, one delicate hand lingering hesitant-like on the railing. Then she fairly flew across the room, hurled herself at him hard enough to knock the breath from him.

"Little eager, darlin'?" he asked mildly.

She pressed her face into the curve of his throat.

"Bi zui. Just hold me."

"Won't hear me complainin'. Though, to be truthsome, it ain't worth the fuss." He raised her chin, brushed away the wet with the pad of his thumb. "Look at me. All shiny, dong ma?"

"And River?"

Mal looked away.

"Blue Sun docs patched her up some. Ta ma de hwoon dan hurt her bad, but bruise fade, breaks heal. Simon'll take good care of her; boy always does."

"I only wanted to visit, see if there was anything I could..." Her voice trailed off at the end. "I could hear her screaming."

Mal lay a hand on her shoulder. "Inara...where's your daddy got off to?"

"Gone. He won't bother us again."

"Inara..."

"Please, Mal." -Please, don't ask.-

"C'mere." He tugged her into the center of the room.

"What are you...?"

"Woman, you gotta fight me on every bitty thing? Let's just pretend you're the docile sort for once." He led her by the hand, turned to flick on his audio device without releasing his hold on her wrist.

She just stared as swells of music filled Mal's narrow bunk.

"Now's the part where you put your hands on me," he explained. When she didn't move, he lifted her arms at the elbow, tucked her fingers behind his neck. He settled his hands on her waist. "Think that's the way."

"We're going to dance? In your bunk."

"Don't do well at fancy shindigs, as you may recollect."

"Mm, I do recall that."

"Anyway, me and you ain't ever danced proper."

"Yes, we have. We danced at the aforementioned Persephone party, and again briefly at the Councilman's manor on Shadow."

"Well, see, those don't count."

"And why, may I ask, is that?" she questioned, amused.

" 'Cuz my fine sense o' decorum prevented me from doing this." He dragged her hard against him, rubbed her hips suggestively. "Think you can keep up with me, Cupcake?"

"Mal...this is a fast number."

He raised a brow.

"Believe it or not, Kitten, I got me a few moves."

"I can see that," she said, a little breathless as he spun her, not unskillfully, around the narrow space. "Okay, give. Where did you learn this?"

He just smirked, ran his hands down her torso. When he slid them up again, he had her nightgown clutched in his fists. He drew the silky fabric over her head. She shivered when his knuckles skimmed her breasts.

In a hurry now, she pushed up his shirt, pressing kisses to his chest and belly. She shimmied down the length of him, bending her knees to unbuckle his trousers while he pulled the t-shirt over his head.

"Someone must have taught you." She breathed close to his ear as they moved. "Did you have lessons?"

He snorted a laugh.

"Oh, can't you just see that. This...this is kinda like sex with your clothes on," he mused.

"Most of our clothes are on the floor," she said dryly.

"You do got a point." He brushed his mouth over hers, not really kissing, just contact. "Zoe."

"Shah muh?"

"Was Zoe taught me. Used to take our leaves at the local pubs, cantinas. After the first few trips, said she was 'shamed to dance in sight of me, I was so bad. Guess she took pity after awhile, showed me a few moves."

"I'll be sure to thank her."

"Do that and you'll be dancin' by your lonesome. We don't mention this in the near ever, dong ma?"

Hiding a smile, she pressed kisses to his collarbone, his cheek, the curve of his throat before he caught her mouth with his. He made love to her with his tongue while they removed their remaining garments, fell down on the bed.

Naked, she slid herself wetly up the length of him, near tears dipped her head to kiss his lips. Groaning out his approval, he shifted his hips, employed one hand to guide himself inside her.

"Mal." She said his name, a whimper.

Both were trembling by the time he was fully sheathed in her heat. For an instant, neither moved, dragging fulfillment from the sheer sweetness of their fit. Then he reached between her legs, teasing with two fingers. His eyes never left hers.

Squeezing with her thighs, she rode, as greedy for his groans as her own pleasure. He ran his hand over the damp skin of her back, inched his fingers up her spine to tug at the curls dangling there. She threw back her head as her breath quickened. One long-nailed hand grasped the sheet for support. He took her smaller hand in his larger one, threaded their fingers.

For long, silent seconds, there was solace.

---

Simon emerged from the infirmary, dragging a weary hand through his hair. He closed the doors behind him.

"How is she, Doctor?"

Simon glanced at Mal, waiting with folded arms in the hall.

"You should let me look at that eye," he murmured before slanting his body against the wall. Kaylee slipped an arm around his waist, and he pulled her nearer, taking comfort in her closeness.

"Don't worry on me," Mal responded. "How's your sister?"

"Bruised. Battered. She suffered some broken bones."

"Some?" Inara asked softly.

"Gorramn purple-belly thugs," Jayne muttered.

Beside him, Gideon's expression was unreadable.

Kaylee closed her eyes against Simon's shirt, unable to contemplate poor River in pain.

"Can't you make her more comfortable?" Mal asked impatiently.

"I pumped her full of drugs, Captain."

"But...the screaming..." Kaylee whispered.

"What else happened in that hospital room?" Mal demanded, his tone deathly still.

"I don't know what they did to her; she won't tell me." Simon met Mal's eyes. "She's been asking for you."

If Mal felt surprise, his face didn't betray it.

"She okay for visitors?"

"As long as you don't stay too long. I don't want her agitated."

"That's Serenity," Jayne muttered. "Ruttin' relaxation cruise."

"Ain't she just," Mal agreed. He slipped past the group assembled before the infirmary and stepped inside the bright, sterile space, closing the doors behind him. Moving quietly in case she'd drifted off, Mal wheeled the Doc's chair up by her bed. He took a seat as he had so many times--too many times--when one of his crew was ill or injured. Carefully, he held her small hand between his bigger ones, wanting her to feel the comfort of human contact when she stirred. He didn't have long to wait; her long lashes parted, revealing sleep-starved brown orbs.

"Hey," he said softly. "There's my lazy, good-for-nothin' pilot. Sleepin' on the job, huh?"

"Sorry, Captain." Her lips curved in a pale smile.

"Yeah, well, it's comin' out of your paycheck." Mal stroked the back of her hand, careful not to think too hard on her shattered nose, the blue and yellow patches beneath her eyes. He surely didn't want her readin' those thoughts. "So I guess your brother's gonna have to clear a space in here. Think Lil' Kaylee's already took up a collection for flowers."

"I never had flowers before," she mused.

Mal just nodded, leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

"You just rest now, Little One."

"Little One," she murmured. She squeezed his hand when he tried to stand, met his eyes, her own wild. "Can't feel it, can you? You're lucky."

"Honey." His throat was rough, his voice strained. "'Haps you should talk to the doc 'bout all this."

"You have to know." She sounded sorry.

"Okay," Mal said slowly. He lowered himself to the chair, took her hand between both of his. "What is it I gotta know, River?"

"They took things...parts. Men in white coats. And a nurse: red hair, smooth hands."

"I remember her," he murmured, half to himself. "Shot me up full o' somethin'. Made me dream..."

"Inara." River smiled sadly.

"Okay, that's a bit creepifying--"

"Lying!" She was shrieking now, thrashing about on the exam table. "Sneaking, thieving! Greedy foxes: they got the eggs--"

Mal leaned forward, tried to hold her still without hurting her.

"River--"

"--weren't theirs to take!" She met Mal's eyes, her own covered in a liquid sheen. "They weren't," she murmured, softer now.

"Honey, I ain't your brother. You gotta give me this in captain-dummy talk."

"If at first you don't succeed, try again, try the hen. Oh, God!" She was crying now, the teardrops skating down her face in long streaks.

"The...doctors..." Mal had to fight like hell to keep his voice level. "You tellin' me they took your--?"

"She was so close to perfect. Star pupil, except there's a design flaw. Her mind's still her own, and she disobeyed, saved her brother." River giggled, half hysterical. "Flew the coop. Runtse de Shang-dee, ching dalwuhtzo."

Oh, sweet Jesus, it never stopped. They couldn't seem to stop, couldn't quit meddling like gorramn gods. No, God weren't one for meddlin'. In point of fact, sumbitch didn't do a ruttin' thing.

"They'll hurt it," River said miserably. She curled up fetal, or as best she could attempt with a broken leg.

"Y-your baby?"

"No." River looked up, her beautiful, battered eyes mournful. "Ours."

---


	16. Chapter 16

---

Her hand stroked over his lips, slid up his face to brush his temple like a priest offering benediction. A child's hand, soft and slender, rounded nails still shimmery-pink with Nara's paints. From this child, they deemed it just to create another. Deadly weapon with its mama's smile. And him? Dear God and Satan, what would the miserable babe take from him?

"Captain?"

He couldn't speak just then, couldn't even open his eyes beneath her probing fingertips. Ai ya, was she tryin' to see into his soul?

"You...you gotta rest now, Little One. Gotta get well, dong ma?"

"Don't go back." She locked his eyes firmly in her gaze. "Promise."

He gave a jerky nod before stumbling away from the table, through the infirmary doors and into the hall where he could breathe. Conversation ground to a hush when he reappeared. Impervious to their stares or at least choosing to ignore them, Mal leaned his head against the wall, fighting for control. Simon threw him a single, searching glance before returning to his sister's side.

"Sir?" Zoe ventured after several moments silence.

"I--What's everyone standin' around for? Don't y'all got works needs doin'? Or better yet, get to your bunks already. It's late enough, and I can't abide a useless crew come mornin'. Well? Get outta here!"

The others dispersed quickly, Kaylee to Simon's side, Inara with a searing glance that made blatant her hurt. Mal just groaned, brushed past Zoe whose penetrating gaze followed him down the corridor.

Inara lingered at the end of the hall, waiting for him.

"Mal." She touched a hand to his shoulder. "You don't have to tell me what was said in there. Just know that I'm here, when you want to talk..."

He walked away before he could say something he'd regret come morning.

In his bunk, he looked longingly for something to break. Gorrammit, if everything on this boat weren't nailed down to the floorboards. He settled on his boots, hopping comically to yank them off before hurling them one after the other at the looking glass. In just his tube socks, he kicked at the wall, hollered when a particularly sure shot had his toes cramping. In a rage, he swept a pile of books off his desk, lifted a bronze paperweight--a model of Earth-that-Was gifted by Kaylee for his last birthday--and pitched it into the mirror. The glass shattered, raining down in his sink with a pleasing clamor. As if the gods of fortune hadn't already cursed him and his whole gorramn ship. Well, screw 'em. Screw the gods and the Alliance and BSB. Screw the Reavers and Miranda and all the poor bastards what fought for Independence. Screw the whole of this miserable, meddlin' 'verse. Where was God in this world, in all these wretched worlds? From where did he watch as adults compelled children to fight their wars? God weren't nowhere, and one o' these days Malcom Reynolds was gonna quit lookin' for the bastard. For now, he just lowered his tired body to the floor, rested his back against the wall and closed his weary eyes.

---

When he awoke it was to the feel of a slobbery thing against his cheek. Squinting into the light, he could just discern the fuzzy image of his first mate dangling her daughter before his face. Raven gave Mal a sunny smile along with a second openmouthed kiss to the nose before he took her from her mama, settled her squirming body against his chest.

"What time is is?" Mal muttered, throat rough from sleep. "Dammit, Zoe, I can clean my own mess."

She ignored both remarks, continued straightening the small space.

"Foot's bleedin', Sir. Step in some glass?"

"Kicked the wall." He wiggled his toes, decided they'd escaped permanent damage and stood gingerly. "Ain't really up for company just now."

"Sir, I've changed your catheter. Think we're past the company stage."

"When did I have a catheter?" He sat down on the bed, little chick in his lap.

"Sir."

"That happen on the third tour?"

"Sir."

He met her gaze, and she saw pure blue wrath reflected back at her. Sensing the tension, Raven started to whimper, held out her arms for her mama.

-Your Uncle Mal's sorry, Little Chick.- He pressed a kiss to her chubby shoulder before Zoe took her. -Ai ya, he's sorry.-

"Sir, what happened in that infirmary last night?" She knelt by his knees, balancing the baby on one hip. "Sir?"

---

He took a long, lingering shower, letting the hot spray pour over his head, beat into battered flesh. Feeling all manner of unclean, he rubbed the soap over his skin till it shone pink and raw beneath the flourescents. When the water ran cold, he dried himself briskly, tugged on some trousers and a shirt without worrying overmuch about matching.

He found the crew waiting at the table. He glanced at his wristwatch, assuming he was late. But no, they'd all arrived a whole half hour early. It was a little past breakfast, but somebody--probably Kaylee--set out a few things, including coffee and tea. Not even Jayne was eating.

"Captain," Zoe acknowledged cooly when he took his seat.

"I, uh...Figure I owe y'all an apology for snappin' at ya way I did."

" 'Sokay, Cap'n." Kaylee smiled innocently, leaned over to pat his hand. "We're used to you."

"Thanks, Kaylee; that there's a comfort."

"Coffee, Mal?" Inara appeared at his elbow, gentle tone and soft eyes conveying her forgiveness.

"Wouldn't turn down a cup." She squeezed his shoulder in passing, the barest of touches but oh, how it soothed. He wanted to lay down with her in the dark, bury his face in the vee between her breasts, close his eyes against the silk of her dress while those delicate fingers stroked through his hair. His eyes locked on her belly, flat beneath the gold and scarlet of her gown. How would it feel learnin' his baby grew in there? A hybrid of him and her, sleeping safe in its mother's warmth. He imagined her telling him, pictured the rosy flush on her cheeks, the way she'd wait, likely a mite nervy, for his reaction. He'd hold her in his lap, kiss her lips, kiss her belly and press his ear there. Well, first he'd likely faint, but after...after, there'd be celebratin'. Typical of him, not realizin' what he wanted till it was already lost.

"Sir?"

"Right." Mal glanced around the table, noted the six sets of eyes glued to his head. "Well, imagine all y'all realize we got some matters need discussin'. Figure it's best to get everythin' out in the open 'fore...before..." Mal shook his head. "Son of a bitch."

"Cap'n," Kaylee murmured.

Mal shoved back his chair, strode over to Gideon's place and pulled the boy bodily from his seat.

"You knew. Didn't ya? You knew where they'd take us and that after they'd let us go. You knew all o' that 'cuz you knew what they wanted with her."

"Captain," Zoe tried.

"You best be straight with me, son."

Inara rose.

"Mal, please--"

"I didn't know for certain," Gideon said quietly. "I'd heard rumors."

"You'd heard--" Mal hauled back and hit the boy in the jaw, sending him sprawling back over the table top.

"Jesus!" Simon thrust his body in between them before Mal could inflict more damage. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

"The matter with me is the tyen suh traitor sittin' at my breakfast table steada out in the airlock where he belongs."

"Someone gettin' thrown out the airlock?"

"Bi zui," Mal growled without sparing Jayne a glance. "Pack your things, son. Only reason I let you stay this long was your bringin' the albatross back safe an' sound. And now she surely ain't that, which means you get out next stop. Best stay outta my sight twixt now and then, lest you feel like gettin' out a mite sooner."

"Mal!" Inara's voice snapped like a belt, had him turning. "For Heaven's sake, what happened in that hospital?"

He couldn't look her in the eye and say it. He'd been to war but this just wasn't in him.

"Mal..." Inara glanced at Simon, the fear she'd felt since last night flooding her face with heat. Bile threatened to fill her throat. "Was she raped?"

"Wuh de tyen, ah," Simon murmured, lowering himself to his chair.

"Weren't that kind o' violation." Or was it? Either way a trespass, an indignity.

"Just what kind of violation did my sister endure?"

Mal met the doctor's gaze.

"Seems 'Liance decided of late that your sister ain't much use to 'em. Unreliable as weapons go. But someone over at BSB Headquarters didn't feel much like givin' up. Someone got it in his head to try again. Guess River's genius-genes proved too great a temptation."

"They...then she's...but no, they'd never have let her leave if..."

Mal let that top-three-percent brain figure its own conclusions.

"They'd use a surrogate," Simon realized. "It would be too dangerous to allow her to carry the child to term."

"Oh my God." Kaylee pressed a hand to her chest. "You mean to say they took parts o' her, mixed it up with some fella's juices and--"

"Not some fella."

"Shah muh, Cap'n?"

"Baby's mine, Kaylee."

For several seconds, there was absolute silence. In an instant that seemed to linger, he caught Inara's gaze, watched those sultry dark eyes widen with shock and something else, something heartbreaking. A single shaking hand flew up to cover her lips before she turned and fled.

"Inara." But it was a whisper, one she surely couldn't hear over the pounding in her chest.

"Dear God." Simon stared at his hands. "She's just a kid."

Kaylee looked close to tears her own self.

"Cap'n...y-you and River...?"

"Wasn't like that, Lil' Kaylee. Woke up tied to a hospital bed. Nurse came in, gave me some drug, and...don't really remember much past that point."

"She likely injected you with Eros 5," Gideon supplied. "It tends to produce sexually-explicit dreams. It would be a simple matter of ah...proper stimulation to produce um...response of sufficient yield."

"Well, that's a mite creepifying."

"Tact, Jayne!" Kaylee punched him in the arm. "You might wanna try it sometime. Doubt the cap'n feels much like talkin' 'bout some freaky nurse manipulatin' his nethers."

"He doesn't." Mal stared pointedly at his hands. "He really, really doesn't."

"I should go see to River. She must be..." Simon let the sentence trail to silence. In fact, he had no notion of how River must be feeling. This was simply beyond his conception.

"Yeah." Mal raked a hand through his hair. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, Doctor."

"Why you?"

"Shah muh?"

"They could have used anyone's genetic material to father her child. What in the whole of this 'verse would make them think of you?"

Mal met Simon's eyes cooly.

"Fairly certain I ain't the one to ask."

---

Some instinct had her returning to the shuttle. Perhaps she longed for the familiar just then or maybe, in her present state, the scene of so much pain had a certain appeal. How many times had Mal barged in here uninvited? How many times had she spurred him to the point of insult, applied pressure in spots she knew to be sore? A barrage of knives, carefully aimed. He'd never intended to say that word, whore, and yet it had always sprung from his lips at the worst-possible time. Somehow the long-gone Cora escaped such labeling. Perhaps he found it unfitting to disparage somebody's mother: Cora with the baby he'd never see growing beneath the gentle curve of her belly. Cora left the Guild when she learned she was carrying life. A companion couldn't be a mother, she'd said; she was right.

Inara pulled open the doors, dragged them closed behind her. She barely recognized this space anymore, free from her plush couches and smoldering incense, bright wall hangings and soft lighting. It was cold and dim now, the floor coated in a thick sheen of dust. One of Kaylee's hammocks hung suspended from a couple rafters, a remnant from her reparations. Inara ignored it, slid soundlessly to the floor. She drew her knees up to her chest, lowered her face as she began to cry. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed, heaved in her struggle to regain control.

The sound of the shuttle door sliding open startled her. She pressed her lips to her arm to stifle the noise. Quickly, she brushed the wet from her cheeks. She held her breath as footsteps padded around the corner. -Mal.-

"Nara?" Kaylee peeked her head into view, offered up a soft smile. "Hey, you."

"Hey, you," Inara managed hoarsely.

Kaylee sat beside her, slung an arm around the elder girl's shoulders.

"Oh, honey."

Inara lay her head in Kaylee's lap and cried silently into her coveralls.

---

Mal settled in the pilot's chair, watching the 'verse fly by in calming contemplation. On ever side, the Black enclosed them as a womb, offering concealment, offering protection. It felt good to be back at his helm, soothing as a shot of whiskey to the belly and twice as warm.

He fiddled with three switches on the console, punched in some coordinates.

A fizzle, white snow. Then a woman's face filled the screen, dark skin, braids down to her shoulders.

"Good afternoon." She smiled at him, voice smooth like lotion. "Thank you for waving us at Mayella's Sweet Leaf Spa, located in the Sweet Leaf township here on Bellerophon."

It was a recording, he realized, no less hypnotized by those eyes. Mayella sure knew somethin' bout staffing.

"We offer a wide variety of services including old-fashioned Earth-that-was massage therapy and facials with the finest in Canton-imported mud. Be sure to try our new pain-free back or bikini wax."

"Oh, but don't that sound tempting." Mal rolled his eyes, amused, and waited for her to finish.

"Please leave your words and contact coordinates after the signal. We eagerly await your arrival and look forward to pampering you in every way imaginable."

"Uh, hi." Mal cleared his throat, mouth suddenly all manner o' dry. "Mayella. Malcom Reynolds. How's things in your world? Was real glad to get your message...real glad. Heard you may have a job for us...in all honesty, Mayella, I'd be mighty appreciative. Could use some good work nowbouts. Anyhow, you just wave me back when you get a minute. Oh yeah--sign me up for one o' them bikini waxes."

He signed off, lay his head back against the seat with a grin. He felt a powerful need to be workin'. The thought of helpin' friends sat right with him just now. He needed to get his head in order; best place to do that was with them he could trust. A few days of rest and relaxation wouldn't do his crew any harm neither.

"Cap'n?"

He glanced up to find Kaylee lingering in the doorway, face pressed to the frame.

"Okay for me to board the bridge, Sir?" she asked, all formal-like.

He hid a smile.

"Get on in here." He motioned to the spare seat. "Brat."

She sat instead on the edge of the console, reached out to lay a hand on his knee. She met his eyes, her own thoughtful.

"How you farin', Cap'n?" she asked seriously.

"Oh, 'spect I'm farin' alright. How you doin', Lil' Kaylee?"

"I mean, in earnest, Cap'n. You need a hug?"

"Kaylee. Please don't feel like you hafta hug me."

Taking that as an invitation, she slid her arms around his neck, pressed her lips to his cheek. He rolled his eyes but didn't stop her.

"I love my cap'n. And I know he loves all o' us, even if sometimes he don't say it and acts like a beast and sends us all to our beds without supper."

"I ain't your daddy, darlin'. Ain't your big brother nor even your grumpy uncle. My function on this ship is to lead, dong ma?" Uncomfortable, he stood, wandered toward the window. "Don't matter much if you like me for it."

"And how 'bout Nara? You just gonna boss her like the rest of us? Keep her at arm's length?"

"Inara's crew, same as you."

She made a sound of exasperation, halfway between a sigh and a shriek.

"Sometimes I just wanna--" She broke off, took a step forward and smacked him, right on the seat of his tight-pants.

"Ow!" Mal whirled, shocked his own self. "I'm sorry, did you just--?"

"You deserved a lot worse." She grabbed his face in both hands, forced him to meet her gaze. "You are bein' a mule. I know you're hurtin'--ain't exactly undue, seein' what was done to you. But Inara's hurtin' too, and way I see it, ain't no sense in you both bein' hurt all by your lonesomes."

"Girl, I've got a good mind to--"

The cortex beeped, announcing an incoming wave.

Mal fairly growled at Kaylee, baring his teeth in a way that reminded her of the wounded puppy her daddy brought home when she was eight. She rolled her eyes and stalked off, leaving him to his wave.

"Malcom Ruttin' Reynolds. How are ya, handsome?"

"Good to see you, Mayella." He forced a smile. "How your people?"

"We was lucky for the most, out of town when those gorramn cannibals set down. My cousin Misty, though...she was shoppin' for the noon meal, and...well..."

Mal nodded, averting his gaze.

"So I hear right? You think me and mine can be of use out your way?"

"Some friends of mine got cargo needs haulin'. Asked if I knew anyone fit the bill. I said not no one hauls quicker or slicker than Malcom Reynolds."

"Mighty good of you, honey."

"That's me." She flashed her coy grin, twisting a strand of blonde between her fingers. "Gorramn saint."

"Well, Saint May, should be planetside early next week. I'll wave you when we break atmo."

"I'm looking forward to it, Mal. I may have a surprise for you, too."

Mal winced.

"Ain't really one for surprises, honey. Especially these days."

She glanced away, speaking to a person off screen.

"Mal? I have to run, Mrs. Blakery don't exactly love her new dye job." She turned away again. "She asked for red, that's red. Oh, and Malcom? I'll book you for that bikini wax."

He was grateful the screen went gray before she could see him blush.

---

Three quick raps. Then:

"Nara? Can I come in?"

She was tempted to tell him no. He'd only keep at her if she refused.

"Just a moment," she called out. She appraised her reflection in the glass, used her pinkie finger to dab concealer under her eyes. She pulled her hair loose, fluffed it around her face.

"Qing jin."

He climbed down the ladder, reached out for her. She took a step back.

"Sit down." She made her mouth a smile. "Can I get you something? Tea?"

"Gorrammit, Nara. We back to that?"

"Back to what?" she asked, compelling her tone toward amusement. "I offered you tea, Mal."

"Exactly my point." He exhaled sharply, raked a hand through his hair. " 'Spose I don't gotta tell you that me and her…that we didn't…?"

She graced him with her patented, 'how dense do I look' look.

"Right. I figured you already—"

"I apologize for my reaction earlier. Leaving that way was childish and…petty."

"Tearin' my bunk to bits weren't exactly the picture of maturity."

"You just learned you're to be a father, Mal. You were understandably perturbed."

"More like petrified." More like rabid. "This don't gotta change nothin'."

She smiled sadly.

"It changes everything."

"Well, yeah, but I meant between you and me."

She looked away.

"So did I."

"Inara, are you…." He felt his breath hitch, had to fight to keep his tone level. "Are you breakin' up with me?"

Her eyes widened.

"No, I didn't mean…that's not what I—"

She felt herself dragged against his chest. His head dipped down into the curve of her neck.

"Good." He stroked a hand roughly over her hair. "That's good."

---

Jayne scurried past the infirmary for the second time that day. Gorrammit, brother-doctor was glued to her side like a ruttin' parasite. Not that he cared especially. Not that he actually gave three damns how the little witch was farin'. Weren't his sister nor his ward nor his lover….Hell, he wasn't even humpin' her. So what if she made a pretty picture, all small and slim and shapely. So what if a twist of those pert pink lips made him wanna get down on his knees and grovel, promise all sorts of wicked things and even follow through on a few? So what if he had an itch to sex the crazy girl? She was cute; weren't no shame in admitting as much. Course now her face was banged up, both eyes blackened, nose broke. It'd be weeks till she was walkin' proper, longer before she could fight. He had an odd yearnin' to treat her as one of his guns, polish her till she gleamed, flesh taut and lethal betwixt his fingers. Dangerous things deserved respect. Little River Tam struck him as one of the more menacing things in this 'verse. Weren't right how they was all treatin' her, as one broken.

"Hi, Jayne."

"Uh, hey…was just come to get me some…tape. Yep, here it is…so I'll just be—"

"Came to see me." She fixed him with a look. "Lying to a psychic is dumb."

"Well, not all of us got your brother's fancy Core schoolin'. Thank the Almighty."

"Education's a great privilege. Learn to kill. Learn to let go—family, friends, sanity."

"Little girl, I got me a list o' vices longer 'n my...anyhow, self-pity ain't one of 'em."

Her eyes flashed briefly at the indignation.

"More lies. What about Vera?"

"What about my gun?"

"Wasn't talking about the gun."

"That ain't right…." He shook his head. "Ain't proper crawlin' through a man's memory like that. Just 'cuz you're all crazified, don't give you the right." He stood up, started for the door.

"Wait."

With her good hand, she grabbed hold of his arm. Lean, little-girl fingers dug into his flesh, burned through the hair on his arm and seared the skin beneath.

"Don't go."

"Sure you can find better company. Nara, maybehaps? Or Lil' Kaylee'd sit with you...want I should find her?"

"Look at her funny. Hurt them to see what's been done to her."

"What 'bout that no-good brother?"

"Simon needs time. Can't feel anything yet. Numb. Look at me."

Jayne felt his eyes lock on hers, couldn't quite muster the will to pull away.

"Bad?"

He shrugged.

"Bruises heal; had plenty my own self."

"Truth."

"Well...you ain't gonna win the Miss Persephone pageant anytime soon."

Her lips twitched.

"Thanks. You can go now, Jayne."

"Right."

He scurried away before the witch changed her mind.

---

His room was empty when he returned from dinner. He couldn't say he'd expected to find it otherwise. Zoe had cleaned up most of his mess from the night before. He owed her one, was sure she'd take it out in baby-sitting for the little chick. Well, he supposed men suffered worse fates.

He sat on the bed, slung his suspenders down his arms and started in on the buttons. Ai ya, did he ever not feel like sleepin' alone. Maybe his meddlin' mechanic had a point, just this once of course. He'd never thought all that much of Kaylee's smile-and-hug school of therapy. Still, a hug didn't sound half bad. Mood he was in, it wouldn't even have to be the naked kind.

In just his trousers, he wandered across the floor, pressed the 'com button to sound in her room.

"Miz Serra? This is the captain speaking. I'm gonna need to see you in my private quarters." He closed the connection before she could bite back with a witty retort.

She took her damn time; it was several minutes before she descended. She wore white, silk-soft pants that rode low on her hips, a matching camisole that ended a few inches above her belly button. A gold hoop with some shiny blue beads dangled down from her navel.

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" She'd changed her hair; straight, it fell nearly to the waist.

"Took ya long enough." He sat up on the bed, patted the space next to him. He wanted her in his lap but was hesitant to push. "Now imagine I'd needed you for some urgent captainy business?"

"So you called me here under false pretenses? Isn't that an abuse of power, Captain?"

"Well, what's the sense in havin' power if you can't abuse it now and then? Ain't that what the Alliance would say?" He looked away, the easy smirk fading as his jaw tightened.

"Mal." She pressed a hand to his cheek. "None of this is your doing."

"Hmm," he murmured noncommittally. "Anyways, I got ya here now. Up for a slumber party of sorts?"

"You're not painting my toenails. Last time was a disaster."

"Whine, whine."

"Half my foot was violet."

"That is an exaggeration." He stood to peel down his trousers, tossed them over a chair. "Need some help with those?" he offered, playing with her drawstring.

"I think I can manage," she said lightly.

He held up the blanket for her to slide under. She shivered a little as she lay back against the pillows. Why? This was hardly the first time she'd been in Mal's bed. Perhaps it was just the sheets, cold against the bare skin of her back. When she was settled, he reached over to switch off the lights, slipped beneath the covers with her.

"You feelin' especially sleepy, Miz Serra?"

Her body responded as it always did in Mal's presence: it ached for him.

"Not especially."

Facing her, he settled a hand on her waist, leaned in to nuzzle her neck. He liked kissing first, the melding of mouths for its own sake. She pressed against him, lost in the way his tongue swept over her lower lip, slipped inside to skate along hers. Her breath quickened as he slid a hand under her camisole, reached up to cup her breast in his palm. She moaned softly as he teased and tormented her with calloused fingers, drawing her nipple to a pleasantly-painful point under his ministrations. She trailed a hand down his bare chest, enjoying the way the abdominal muscles contracted beneath her touch. He rolled atop her then, employing his knee to nudge apart hers. He settled in the space between, their lower bodies nestling close. He was very aroused now; she could feel him through his undershorts, the thin fabric of her pajama pants.

"Lift your legs," he instructed.

She did, tightening them around his waist. Feeling decidedly whimsical, he pressed against her through their clothes. Hell, he hadn't done this since he was a kid. He braced himself with one arm, used his free hand to raise her camisole. He lowered his lips to one hardened pink nipple, rolled it around in his mouth until she was writhing.

"Ye su, you're beautiful." He ground gently against her, making sure to brush the spot where she was most sensitive. "This feel good?" he asked roughly, unused to such directness.

She nodded. It did feel good. All of it. Why then did her hand shake when she stroked his hair? What made the panic bubble madly in the back of her throat? This was absurd, silly. She wanted this, him, their bodies joined in heated pleasure. She fought to steady her hand as it journeyed down his body, slipped through the slit in his shorts. With just her fingertips, she stroked the head of him, squeezed skillfully with her fist until he was groaning against her throat.

"Oh, God, Inara." He sat up, dragging her pants down to her ankles and her underwear with them. He tugged the silky camisole over her head, allowing himself rampant access to her glowy-gold skin. "You destroy me."

She kissed him with her eyes closed, willing herself to relax, to enjoy him and this, what they were about to do. Beneath his fingers, her heart beat rapidly in her chest. A fine sheen of sweat coated her face. She'd had these attacks before, learned the hard way how to control them. -Breathe, Inara. You're safe and sheltered, you're with Mal...-

Always careful with her, he slipped two fingers between her thighs.

"I'm ready," she assured, stroking his cheek.

"I ain't one to be rushed," he responded. He slid down her belly, soft hair tickling the skin of her inner thighs. Sensation poured through her, overtaking and overwhelming, as he slid his tongue between her folds. She couldn't think; she couldn't not. He sucked lightly, holding her hips with his hands to keep her from thrashing. She felt the orgasm building inside her, felt the panic coil in her belly. She employed all her companion training to drive the dread from her, bury it down in the dark place.

He hovered over her then, eager to be submerged in her, held to that gorgeous, goddess chest where all was right.

She couldn't quite stifle the whimper when he buried himself, hoped he'd mistake it for something else. He was a sweet lover, really. Sweet: an odd term to describe Mal, and yet it applied here. He noticed all her sighs and shudders, paid careful heed to her comfort. She caught her breath, tried to focus on him. This was Mal inside her, Mal's thumb rubbing the nerve bundle at her center. Mal. She gazed into those beautiful blue eyes of his, tried to school all her concentration there. Helpless, she felt the panic rise in her lungs once again, fear creeping and crawling like leeches, sucking everything out of her until all that remained was more fear. She went still in his arms.

"Inara?"

He froze, wondering for an anxious moment whether he'd literally put her to sleep. But no, her figure was stiff, face pale despite their rather heated embrace.

"Hey..." He touched her cheek softly. "What's wrong?"

"I--nothing." But her throat caught on a sob.

By now, he was working himself into a damn good frenzy. Worry washed over his face like frigid water.

"Nara...I do somethin' to--? Oh, don't cry; please don't cry." He withdrew and tried to gather her against him, but she was shaking, wrapping herself in the topsheet, half-tumbling off the bed.

"I'm sorry, I can't." She backed away, clearly of a mind to bolt. "I'm sorry."

She closed herself in the shower stall, the door banging closed behind her. Seconds later he heard sobbing.

If the preacher were around, he'd surely be hearin' a special hell lecture nowbouts. And damn, if he didn't deserve one. Feeling like three kinds of sumbitch, he tugged on his pants, approached the door hesitant-like.

"Inara?" He reached for the door handle, changed his mind and let his hand fall to his side. He surely wasn't openin' that door. "Darlin', you gots to tell me what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He hesitated, hearing her muffled cries. "Inara…please."

"I—I'm fine, Mal." She gasped in air, released her breath on a long shuddery sigh. "Really, you didn't do anything…."

"That'd be a tad more convincing if you weren't hid away in my washroom." More convincing if she hadn't up and left in the middle of…best not to continue down that line of thinking, if the throbbing in his nethers was any indicator. "Nara?"

Silence.

"You ain't hurt. Are you sick? You want I should get the doc?"

"I'm not sick, Mal. Please, just let me…."

On the other side of the door, she curled herself in a ball, letting the warm tears flow unfettered over her cheeks. The panic was subsiding, trickling out her pores as she sobbed. In its wake, she was exhausted, flesh cold and clammy to the touch. She wrapped her arms around her torso and willed him away.

"Inara." He spread his fingers over the door, imagining hers pressed similar on the other side. "Maybe you've noticed I ain't the most perceptive of men. Ain't usually one for meddlin' in the business of others, my crew I mean. But, well, you ain't exactly that anymore, at least not just that, crew, that is. And when you start cryin' whilst we're having…intimacy…well, tends to hit a nerve, dong ma? Certainly ain't no expert in these matters—womanly sentiments and such—but if I had to hazard a hunch, I'd say this is tied to what was learned earlier. My right?"

His only answer was the soft sound of her weeping. It smarted the soul like a bee sting, vinegar in an open wound.

"Okay. Since I ain't always one for sharin' my own self, I ain't gonna make you. You just stay in there long as you need, and I'll be upstairs if you feel like talkin'. I'm gonna leave those pretty pajamas of yours right by the door…so they'll be there…if you want 'em." He collected the pile of white silk from the foot of the bed, made a valiant attempt at folding it for her. "Right, so I'm gonna go now…I-I'm sorry, bao bei."

Drained, he climbed the ladder, walked the quiet catwalks while Serenity and her crew slept peaceful. Some pull had him wandering down to the infirmary. He paused outside the windows, leaned against the glass. His albatross lay curled to the right, left leg lifted in some sling of the doctor's doing. As though sensing his presence, she raised her head slightly off her pillow. Her hair was growin' out again; the tangled locks flowing over her shoulders.

"Hey, Little One. What's the news?" He took a seat by her bed, lifted her tiny hand. "Doc fix you up good? My payin' him too much?"

"Tries to help. Tries to put the pieces together. But there are too many. The vase shattered, leaving a thousand grains of sand."

"That's good. You just lie there and be poetical. Your brother's got quite the way with words his own self. You ever hear the boy sing?"

A ghost of a smile played over her lips.

"Was he naked?"

"Thankfully not." He let his eyes wander the walls, glide over the ceiling. "Still, that's one multi-talented family tree. I do posit this kid'll be quite the handful. You, uh, you know if it's a boy or girl…?"

"It doesn't matter."

She closed her eyes, water collecting at the corners. Shiny, he'd made two women cry tonight—had to be some sorta record.

"Well, no, 'spect I'll be havin' regular heart attacks either way."

"You'll never see it. They'll make sure." Her voice rose slightly at the end.

"River." He caught her gaze. "As your captain, I'm makin' you this promise. Sure as I'm breathin', that babe will call you momma."

She met his gaze, and he saw a hopelessness he hadn't known since the war.

"I don't wanna be a mama, Captain."

She shut her eyes then, shutting him firmly out.

Upstairs, Mal settled on the couch in the dining common. His legs were too long; his feet dangled off the sofa arm. Groaning, he flipped onto his side, tried to find a comfortable position to pass the night. An unpleasant thought occurred to him, and he sprung up, rummaged through some kitchen cabinets till he found what he wanted.

With a thick felt pen, he scrawled "Not a rutting word" on a scrap of parchment. He slapped the note down on the coffee table before returning to his spot on the sofa. Ai ya, it was gonna be a long damn night.

He woke to the aroma of coffee: Zoe's brew, powerful strong. From the kitchen, he heard the muffled sounds of the breakfast dialogue. Mouth watering, he squinted his eyes open. Somebody had stuck a post-it note to his forehead. He peeled off the paper, held it up to the light so he could make out the letters.

"Pussy whipped," it read in large, childlike print.

Jayne Cobb was a dead man.

---

Inara woke at six, face pressed to the bathroom tile, damp hair plastered to her cheeks. She cracked the door, peered out into Mal's bunk. True to his word, he'd slept elsewhere, the couch in the common room most-like. Embarrassed, she dressed in the dark, crept up the ladder.

In her own room, she showered, bathing away the cold sheen of hysteria with warm cloths. After, she willed herself to dress, knowing it would be unwise to remain in bed. Sleeping away the day would prove imprudent as well as cowardly. She needed to walk about the ship, force down breakfast, live.

At eight, she wandered down to the galley. From the doorway, she observed the scene, typical save the absence of Simon and Kaylee, apparently sleeping in. Zoe fed Raven some sweet-smelling cereal, most of which now lay in clumps on the table, the floor, in Zoe's hair. Mal and Jayne sat across from each other, glowering like weary dogs. Jayne's nose was bloodied; Mal's lip looked suspiciously fat.

Catching Zoe's eye, Inara curved her lips in greeting, compelled herself to cross the room.

"Good morning, everyone."

She took a mug from the collection on the table, stopped to squeeze Mal's shoulder in greeting before strolling toward the stove for hot water. He followed her to the counter; she'd known he would.

"Dawn brawl?" she teased, touching a finger to his swollen lip.

He winced, caught her wrist.

"Hey…you, uh...how are you?"

"Mal, I want to apologize for last night. I'm sure my behavior was upsetting, not to mention frustrating. I'll make it up to you, I promise." She flashed him one of her patented smiles, a sheepish grin intended to wreak havoc on the loins, and pressed a firm kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Tonight if you like."

"Inara…." He lowered his voice, leaned in so she caught a whiff of him: spearmint and black coffee. "I seem to recall you goin' ballistic when last we was havin'...intimacies. You think that maybe merits a few minutes discussion?"

"I suffer from panic attacks, Mal." She poured steaming water, struggling to keep a steady hand. "It's a condition I've had since I was a teenager; last night's was hardly the first."

It was the first he'd heard of it.

"You usually suffer these attacks whilst we're makin' love?" he asked quietly.

"I—I'm never really sure what spurs one on," she lied guiltily. "It's nothing to worry about though." She cupped his cheek, brushed another kiss over his bruised lip. "And I meant it when I said I'd make it up to you."

He caught her by the arm when she tried to slip away.

"Inara—"

"Please, Mal."

Big wounded eyes. Gorrammit, she was good.

"Imagine it was stomach cramp. A one time occurrence." She wouldn't let it be more.

Hell of a stomach cramp. But he let her slide through his hands.

---


	17. Chapter 17

AN: Silee scene co-created by Grimlock.

AN2: Thanks to Stacy P. for the inspiration.

---

Her bedroom dipped and swayed as soon as she opened her eyes. Inara flung back silk sheets of a deep ruby-red and hastened across the room. She fell to her knees on the hardwood floor and was sick in the trash receptacle. After, drained, she collapsed back against the wall, tears and sweat mingling, dripping down her cheeks. The panic was palpable, just like the sickness in her belly each morning of the past two weeks. Still shaking, she rose, bent over the sink to rinse her mouth. She had to shower and dress before her luncheon with the colonel. She must stay in control, keep her appointments if nothing else. She knew the other women would notice her absence from the recreation facility this morning, miss her after when they lounged and gossiped in the sauna. She wanted a bath. She wanted to disappear.

"Inara?" She started at the sound of knuckles on wood. "Are you there, mei mei?"

"I—just a moment, Nique." She grabbed a robe from her closet, wrapped it hastily around herself. She risked a quick glance in the mirror, noting the paleness of her cheek, the dark half moons beneath either eye. It couldn't be helped.

"Dominique. Good morning." She smiled, stepped back so her mentor could enter.

"Darling." Nique kissed her on both cheeks, a common Companion greeting. She hesitated, pressed a hand to the younger girl's temple. "Inara? You don't seem well."

"Silly me, sleeping through my morning bell." She slipped out from Dominique's hold, sat down at her dressing table to brush her hair. "Perhaps I'm coming down with something."

In the mirror, she watched Nique lower her lovely form to the bed, smooth a single, graceful hand over the spread.

"How unfortunate! Should I send for the doctor?"

"Oh, Nique, no!" She met the older woman's eyes in the mirror, tried to modulate her tone. "Really, I'm sure that's not necessary. You mustn't concern yourself overmuch; I'll be fine."

"Just a trifling malady, I'm sure."

"I'm sure." Inara agreed, fastening all her hair up with a clip. If Nique left soon, she'd still have an hour in the bath before she was due at the colonel's. The thought filled her with remorse: how awful to wish her friend away!

"Tell me, Inara: is this the sort of malady that tends to strike most potently in the mornings?"

Inara's hand stilled. Carefully, she lowered a hairpin to the dressing table, turned to face the woman on the bed.

"I—I don't—"

"Come." Green eyes appraised her coolly. "Sit by me."

Inara obeyed, already feeling the sting of her tears. Holding them in hurt so much more.

"You mustn't lie to me, mei mei." She caught hold of Inara's chin, jerked her face around till their eyes met. "We are sisters, Companions of the highest order. Lying is beneath us, dong ma?"

"Shuh muh." Her voice was weary. "I'm sorry, Nique."

"Hush." She guided the girl's head to her lap, stroked the damp hair while Inara wept. "I'm going to help you, but you must be honest with me. Does it belong to my brother?"

"I believe so. We were on holiday the week it happened…at least, I think that's when it happened."

"Your trip to Londinium…six weeks prior? You took your prescription faithfully, I'm sure?"

"Of course! I assure you, Nique, I didn't miss a day."

"I believe you, mei mei. But nothing is foolproof. There's always the chance of error."

"I've been here since I was fourteen, Nique. In all that time, I've not heard even a whisper of..."

"Oh, Inara." Dominique cupped her cheek. "My dear, some errors can be easily corrected."

An error—was that what this was? Subconsciously, she laid a hand on her belly, still deceptively flat beneath her nightgown.

"I hesitate to tell you this. I love you dearly and loathe to hurt you."

She raised her face.

"Dominique?"

"How old are you now, darling?"

"Nineteen," she murmured.

"Nineteen, and already you've an aptitude that can't be taught, beauty that can't be bought. There's talk among the elders that you'll make priestess before you're thirty. Don't blush; it's just truth. Such potential, such glowing praise…well, my dear, such things tend to inspire rampant jealousy. I'm sure the others girls have made note of your success. You've barely been Companion a year and already to have regular clients…my brother being no small boon. My special attention also sets you apart from the others."

"You're very kind," Inara murmured, not quite understanding.

"And you're very sweet. Perhaps a trifle naïve even, through no fault of your own." Dominique hesitated, ran her fingers down Inara's shoulder. "This is pure speculation, you understand. Of course, I could be terribly mistaken. However, I really don't think….My dear, past occurrences in Guild history arouse my suspicions now. I've heard tales of envious girls meddling with a successful Companion's contraceptive prescription, replacing the active pills with placebo."

Inara's face paled. She pressed a fist to her lips.

"I—I'm going to be sick."

This time Nique held her hair back as she retched into the trash can. But her stomach was empty. Inara was empty. Fatigued, she slid to the ground, felt Dominique catch her, hoist her to her feet.

"We can remedy this; I'll arrange all the details." She drew her hands down Inara's quivering arms, pressed a light kiss to her lips. "Wash your face and undress. I'll draw you a bath."

Yes, Nique. Fix my mistake. Repair my blunder. I made a foolish error—naïve you say? I imagine I'm that. She brushed her teeth till the gums bled, rinsed her mouth with mint and cool water. Cold and trembling, she peeled off her robe, drew her nightgown over her head. She wrapped a towel around torso, held it to her chest as she walked toward the adjoining washroom.

"I've made the bath very hot so you mustn't linger too long." Nique unknotted the towel, helped Inara into the sunken tub. "It isn't good for the skin."

The water burned all over. She let it surround her.

"I've an appointment with Colonel Madson this afternoon." Inara sank gratefully against the marble, felt Nique's skillful fingers massage her scalp. "I'll beg his pardon, ask him to reschedule…."

"You'll do no such thing."

Inara's eyes snapped open.

"But…Nique, I'm not sure I can—"

"Yes, you can. You will. You're a Companion, Inara. A lady of great strength. You'll bathe and you'll dress and you'll meet him at two in your finest attire. Today you will arouse no suspicions. And tomorrow…tomorrow we'll make everything well."

"Dominique." Her lashes pressed once before she forced her lids up. She slid a hand under the water, curved it round her belly. "I'm not sure I can do this."

"Shhh. This is the way it must be, don't you see? You'd ruin your career, meimei, your life even. And along the way, you'd ruin my brother's. Fathering a Companion's bastard baby? Surely you don't wish that shame on him. Not after all he's done for you…."

"Of course not." Inara let her eyes drift closed.

"Good girl. Just rest now. Let me wash your hair."

A week later it was done, though not in the way Nique intended. A pain in the night. Blood. She threw the sheets down the garbage shoot before knocking on Nique's door. Trevor came to see her at the very-private clinic.

"Oh, Inara." He stroked her hair back with his long, slender fingers. "Just rest and don't fret, my darling. Nique's seen to everything; the Guild believes you're accompanying me on a business trip. When you return, everything will be as it was."

Nothing would be as it was.

When he left, Dominique approached her bedside. She moved out of the shadows, stepped into the light.

"You told him." She seemed stunned. "Why would you tell him?"

"I didn't mean to go behind your back, Dominique. I'm very grateful for all you've done, truly I am."

"And yet you snuck out in the night last week, paid a personal visit to his apartments."

"I thought he had to know," she said hoarsely.

"And to what end? Now his child is dead, and he can do nothing about it. You've only caused him suffering."

Her eyes snapped upward, angry amber lights specking the brown.

"I'm suffering too, Nique. Is it such a sin to think we might suffer together?"

"My God. You love him."

"No. He's dear to me, that's all." She met her mentor's cool gaze. "A Companion isn't permitted the luxury of love, is she, Nique?"

Dominique's smile was cold.

"Perhaps you aren't so naïve after all, child."

---

Goin' on a week, she'd been watchin' him. Ever since they brought River

back on board--Beauty beat black and blue, beat up inside where bruises don't show-Kaylee had been biding time, watching, waiting. Some o' the others acted like Simon didn't have no feelings. Sure, he could be stiff, formal. Sometimes his happy face looked an awful lot like his perplexed face which weren't so different from his worried one. But he still felt stuff. Sometimes she thought things hurt him more cuz he kept so quiet, hardly ever givin' breath to his thoughts. Still, after all these months, Kaylee figured she had him pretty well pegged. Her Simon Meter, was what she called it. One thing she noticed early on: the Core in him weren't never so evident as when he was feelin' lost. Life in the Black might not o' been polite, proper. On the other hand, it was rarely dull. Livin' out here could be wild and messy and dark, none of which exactly jived with the mindset of a surgeon-doc what liked his edges clean and neat. When things were smooth-like, he tended to relax a little, talk like normal folk. But when something was gnawin' at him, something like what those hwoon dan done to River...well, Dr. Tam tended to take over then. Course now that she was Mrs. Tam, things was gonna go a little different...

Kaylee waited in their bunk, sat cross-legged on the bed. She was feelin' a little discomforted, what with this thing she was plannin'. Had to be some commandment 'gainst wives ambushin' their husbands. Still, Kaylee wasn't gonna let things get bad like last time.

"Kaylee. Hello." He bent to kiss the top of her head. "I didn't expect to find you here; you startled me." That there: the formal.

"Sorry. You just seen to River?"

"Uh huh." Simon unbuttoned his shirt, set it neatly in the laundry bin.

"How is she?

"The swelling on her face seems to be going down. Her leg should

heal most rapidly, meaning she'll need physical therapy--"

"No. How -is- she?"

Simon trailed off, missing something.

"How 'bout you?" she pressed. "How you doin'?"

"How am -I- feeling?" He looked baffled. "I-I'm fine."

"Really? River's lyin' in that infirmary bed beat half to death and you're just fine?" She took a breath, forced herself to keep goin'. Forced herself to hurt him. "Not upset or nothin'?"

"Of course I'm upset; she's my sister." Simon raked a hand through his hair, wandered toward the narrow closet they shared.

"So you're upset. Frustrated?"

"Yes." He stared at the row of hangers, Kaylee's spare coveralls, a

pink shirt that left her belly bare.

"Are you mad?"

"Yes." His own shirts, a few more pair of pants: there wasn't much.

"Wish there was somethin' you could do 'bout it?"

"God, yes."

Kaylee rose from the bed and crossed the room. She stood before him, hands on his shoulders.

"Then say so," she murmured softly.

"What do you want me to say, Kaylee? Hmm? Would you prefer if I acted like Mal? Do you want me to shout and…and smash things?"

"Well, that'd be a start. Then you could get real crazy and tell me how you're feelin'."

"I—Kaylee--" He sank down on the bed, suddenly exhausted.

"Don't hold nothin' back, I can take it." She sat beside him, rubbed lightly at his back. "Tell me what they did to her, Simon. Tell me what them hwoon dan did to your sister."

For a moment, he just stared at her.

"They broke her arm, her leg…three ribs and her pretty nose. They harvested her—" His voice cracked, and he stopped, tried to catch his breath. "They took and took, took until there wasn't…until she was…." His eyes were glazed, his voice hollow. "She's so empty. That light inside her…it's as if they stole that too. Dammit, Kaylee! I should have been there. I'm her brother, and she's so very young, Kaylee. Don't you see? I was supposed to protect her!"

"Shh. Simon, no." She lowered his head to her lap, stroked her hand over his hair. "I was there, honey. I saw. Wouldn't o' made no difference, you bein' there. Them three was like nothin' I ever seen. Better 'n the cap'n. Better 'n Zoe or Jayne. All you coulda done was watched. And, knowin' River, I'm pretty sure she's glad you didn't…see that, I mean. She loves you so much. So much love betwixt you two…."

"That's all I can do now. Watch. I can heal her body, mend her broken bones. But they broke her on the inside. And I can't do a rutting thing to help."

She just smoothed his hair, rubbed gently at the scalp while he cried silently into her lap. Get it out, honey. Get it all out so you can fix River good and fast. You mend her body, we'll all of us try to soothe her soul.

"She's strong, your sister...my sister-in-law. You just keep rememberin' that."

She bowed forward to kiss his temple, and he cupped her cheek in his palm.

"Kaylee, you're…I don't know what I'd do if—"

"Don't even say it. I'm yours. I'm yours and I ain't goin' nowhere."

---

The girl slept. At last. Simon would be relieved.

Inara closed the door quietly so as not to disturb her. She took a seat by the exam table, folded her hands in her lap. Beneath her swollen lids, River's eyes moved, shifting to the rhythm of her dream.

-I'm sorry, sweetheart, poor, dear girl.-

Grown, she couldn't heft the burden River carried. To play with a girl's memory, her very self. To take possession of her, body and psyche: the fear of going insane would have driven Inara there. Fear could infiltrate every nook and corner, petrify, paralyze. Fear of living and of dying, fear of surviving as something other than one's self. The loss of control—it was her most profound source of dread. She'd prefer death to such a loss.

"I'm sorry."

Inara glanced up, blinking in surprise.

"River. What have you to be sorry for, honey?"

"So sad. Can't fool her." River stretched up a hand, ignoring the pull of the IV. "He'd rather it be yours. Wants a child but not like this. Not by her."

"River—"

"Not a baby. Abomination."

"You don't believe that. I know Mal doesn't…."

"He wanted to watch it grow inside you, watch you swell…."

"I—River—"

"Be better off dead." Her eyes closed, tears welling at the corners.

"No. You mustn't say that. Simon couldn't bear it if something…none of us could, honey. We all love you, sweetheart, even if some of us haven't the words…."

River smiled sadly.

"Not me. Baby."

"Shuh muh?"

"Abomination. Lab rat. Better dead than theirs!" Her voice rose at the end, face contorting. "Can't ever tell the others. Others won't understand. Unnatural to want to kill what's yours….Oh, God, I'm terrible."

"Shh." Inara stroked damp hair back from the girl's tear-streaked cheeks. "It's alright, meimei. You're a mother against her will, a mother who's lost all choice, all control. Any mother would understand what you're feeling, your desire to protect your child against harm—"

"Don't you see? Only way to save is to destroy."

Inara watched River's face crumble again, her eyes twin leaking saucers in the light of the lamps.

---

She'd brushed by him after the evening meal, squeezed his shoulder as he washed dishes and whispered for him to visit her later. He stared into the bubbles, somewhat conflicted. Oh, he wanted her: weren't no question 'bout that. And strange as it was admitting it, he didn't much like sleepin' by his lonesome no more. Not when there was another offer: a warm, snuggly offer with hair a man could get lost in, hands to drive him mad.

Lately, he found that he liked talkin' with her at day's end, remarking on its events, foretellin' what the next might hold. He enjoyed the fightin' and the teasin' and the kissin' her breathless. He took pleasure from puttin' that look in her eyes, the one that sparked up when he did something soft or sweet: tugging her still-shivery form atop his after their lovemakin', unfolding her hand to press a kiss in the center of her palm. Most times, she looked so surprised it damn near broke his heart.

To be truthsome, this was new for him as well. With Cora it was frantic fumbling, speedy couplings in the woods, his mama's barn. Neither of 'em knew a good gorramn what they was doin'; in fairness, neither cared. The act itself was the draw, the nakedness, the pleasure, best of all the sin. The snuck about like, well, kids. Forbidden fruit, and wo de ma, did it taste sweet.

After the war, fruit supplies dwindled. He and Zoe both felt the yearnin' for comfort, the need to be held and touched, made to feel alive after all that death. They each took to bed with strangers, pretended after like it never happened. 'Haps it was different for her, though somehow he doubted it, but Mal made love the same way he made war: with a steady, mindless devotion. Those first few years, he approached it as he would any other job. He'd see to it that the woman was pleasured; then he'd tried to lose himself. He tried over and over.

Mayella wrenched up those plans, of course. She dragged him to bars and dance halls, obliged him to laugh, mock his own gravity. She fed him homemade cheesecake and cheap wine and let him collapse on her breast each night. He called on her once and again, when Serenity was flyin' near her world. She was a good girl and knew from the start what he wasn't.

He weren't the sort was in it for the long haul. In point of fact, he hadn't the strength to haul it. So, for the life of him, he couldn't figure how he had a girlfriend, or was nine months away from bein' somebody's daddy. Of course, this all mighta gone smoother had the girlfriend part and the baby part been somewhat more intertwined. But then, Malcom Reynolds was no stranger to things not goin' smooth. Still, he had the twitchily-desperate desire for this particular part of his life to run smoother than the rest. Problem was he hadn't the faintest notion o' how to handle himself. His utter cluelessness, combined with sexual deprivation and an embarrassing want to cuddle had him knocking at her door.

"Zoe?"

"Feedin' the baby, Sir. Still wanna come down?"

"Contrary to popular opinion, I'm a man grown, Zoe."

"So you gonna wait up there?"

"Seems I am," he admitted, leaning against the wall.

She called him down a few minutes later.

"You are gettin' entirely too mouthy of late," he observed, taking a seat on the bed. "Gonna hand over my niece?"

"She's been spitting up some."

"Oh, I've had women do worse." He took the sleepy-eyed chick to his shoulder, hugged her warm body to his. "All babies good as this one?"

"Don't know, Sir." She hid a smile. "Just have the one."

"Yeah, but…you're a woman. Should know about…womanly things. Right?"

Zoe appraised him through narrowed eyes.

"You got somethin' on your mind, Captain?"

"More like a whole bunch o' blanks," he muttered.

"Sir?"

"Can you, uh, not look at me when I say this?"

"You want me to turn around?"

"Would be a kindness," he admitted.

She had to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek. Deliberately, she turned to face the wall.

"That better, Sir?"

"Suppose we'll see." Raven reached around his neck, grasped a handful of his hair in a tiny fist. He woulda laughed, 'cept the chick had a good grip and it kinda hurt. Gently, he detached her hand. "Zoe, you, uh…you remember all that stuff I said 'bout shipboard romances bein' a bad idea?"

"Does sound vaguely familiar, Sir."

"Maybe you noticed I didn't exactly heed my own wisdom in that arena."

"Have heard the occasional rumor." Zoe sighed, turned to face him. "You and Inara had a fight, I take it. This about River's baby?"

"Not rightly sure. I know it was a mite shocking at first—hell, still is near a week later."

"She takin' it pretty bad, Sir?"

"That ain't it. Or, not just that. I don't know, just seems to me it's a mite more complicated than that."

"Always is, Sir. You gonna tell me what happened or do I start guessing?"

He considered ordering her to turn around again, realized it wouldn't help.

"Other night…she and I was…." He raised a brow pointedly, waited for Zoe's nod of recognition. "Anyhow, once I was…that's when she…." He shrugged. "Said after it was a panic attack, that she had 'em now and again." There was a reason he went to Zoe for these things. No one else could to decipher his inchoate manner o' storytelling.

"Any idea what brought it on, Sir?"

"Could hazard a guess."

"Sir, sure it wasn't you."

"Well, that's good o' you to say. But seein' as I was the only other one in the room…At any rate, Inara ain't exactly eager to talk on it. Rather pretend like nothin' happened."

"Have the two of you made love since that night, Sir?"

He lowered his face to the baby's neck, hoping her mama wouldn't see his face change color. Oh, Dear God, he had to get better at this stuff…if for no other reason than he couldn't bear askin' Zoe for advice every day.

"Not exactly," he admitted.

"Not exactly," she repeated. "Have you, ahem, tried?"

"Well, we slept together in her bed last few nights…just, you know, sleeping…." He shrugged. "Been turnin' in kinda late past few days…feelin' all manner o' tired."

"No need for explainin', Sir. I was married, remember?"

He raised a brow.

"So you and Wash had…off periods?"

"Had an off month 'fore he shaved off that bun mustache. Always got good again though."

"You made him go a month! Mother of…." He stopped, realizing they were getting just a mite off track. "It's not that I don't wanna…have intimacies. I surely do. It's just…."

"You're scared."

His smile was sheepish.

"Why's I always have such a hard time admitting that?"

"Oh, reckon 'cause it's different this time. Different 'cause you love her."

He stood up, jolting the chick who whimpered, settled her head back on his shoulder with a yawn.

"Hold on, Zoe." He patted the baby's back to soothe her. "I—I didn't ever say that."

"Might come a day when you wish you had." She took her sleeping daughter from his arms over his murmur of protest, settled her in her cradle. "Gonna be okay, Sir. Just take it slow with Inara. Listen if she feels like talkin'. Don't treat her like she's glass, but let her know she's precious. Do something makes her feel good." She smiled. "You need suggestions on that measure, Sir?"

"See what I'm talkin' 'bout with the mouth?"

---

He caught a whiff of it comin' down the ladder: vanilla. Weren't your mama's sugar-cookie vanilla neither. This was different, spicier. It made his nose tingle, aroused a desire he couldn't name. She was lighting the last one as he descended, her figure clad in scarlet satin that skimmed her knees, dipped long between her breasts.

"I'm pretty sure candles are contraband, cupcake."

"Then it's lucky I'm sleeping with the captain." Her eyes twinkled in the flickering lights. "Just relax, Mal. And also, take off your pants."

He crinkled his forehead.

"Huh."

"Something wrong?"

"No. No, that just sounded oddly familiar-like."

She smiled, started unbuttoning his shirt.

"I lose a game o' strip poker I don't recall playin'?"

"I'm pampering you. Pretend to enjoy yourself."

"Ohhh. Wellll. How come?"

She led him to the bed in his undershorts, gave him a light shove so he'd sit.

"I know this week must not have been easy for you, Mal. And I'm sure my behavior the other night was upsetting, to say the least. I meant it when I said I'd make it up to you."

"And this is...with the up-making?"

She smiled again.

"Lie on your belly."

"Inara." He caught her wrist, rubbed his thumb lightly over the pulse point. "We okay?"

"Close your eyes. Oil or lotion?"

"Depends...where's it goin'?"

"On that note, perhaps we'll skip the sensual massage. I'm fairly certain you couldn't lie still for the requisite thirty minutes--"

"Quit your whining, woman." He grinned at the fury in her eyes, then winced when she slapped his shoulder none-too-lightly. He pointed to the oil, murmuring something about pretty little kittens with claws.

He was feeling all manner o' awkward nowbouts. Surely lyin' here gettin' rubbed down with smelly stuff weren't followin' Zoe's expert advice. He reached up to tug at the strap of her nighty thing but she just shook her head playfully. He watched, a bit anxiously, as she poured oil in her palm, patted her hands together. Then she was massaging something hot and musky into his shoulders. And he didn't have a whole lot of thoughts.

"Do you like this?" she asked close to his ear.

He made some sounds that weren't human speech, and she took them as a yes. She followed his groans like a map, lingering in the tight spots, letting his pains and pleasures dictate her direction.

"How'sit all warm?" he slurred into the pillow.

"Magic," she answered, amused. "Or maybe wiles."

"Godblesswiles."

She moved her hands lower, kneading with the base of her palm. This role fit her as smoothly as a favored silk gown, easy as the oil over Mal's back. Like a priest accustomed to the pulpit, she took to her task, her hands eloquent as a sermon. Like an ancient prostitute made famous from her ointments, Inara caressed him into repose, then used her nimble fingers to stroke him up to arousal.

"Turn on your back," she instructed, her tone just the proper balance of firmness and flirtation, purity and promise.

Sleepy and stimulated, he obeyed. She smiled down at him like a virgin sacrifice, her hair a cloud of midnight, one skinny strap dangling down her shoulder. Knowledge and innocence all bound up in a devastating beauty. He reached for her, but she stilled his hand, warmed hers with more of the oil. Lost, he let her hold his gaze as those slender, skillful hands spread over his chest, ventured purposely down his belly. At his waistband, she hesitated, fingers stilling.

"Don't you think you'd be more comfortable without those?"

"Dunno 'bout comfortable. Interesting, surely." But he lifted his hips, let her drag down the cotton of his undershorts.

"Close your eyes, Mal. Let the sensations carry you."

-Where my goin'?- he wanted to know, but was wise enough not to ask. He found out the instant her hand locked around him, already hard from the massage. She stroked his length with the oil, alternating feather-light brushes with a firm squeezing motion that nearly ended him.

He opened his eyes, searching hers for signs of panic. But her smile was effortless, her fingers fluid. He reached up to cup her face, and she leaned into his palm, eyes flickering closed. He traced her lips with the pad of his thumb, moaning a little when they parted, took his fingers into her mouth and sucked.

"Ai ya, I want you, Inara. I wanna make love to you."

She lowered herself into his arms, her hair spilling forward over his face, lashes tickling his cheek as he explored her mouth with his tongue.

After, it was long minutes before he came back to himself. Curled beside him, she balanced on one elbow, head in hand. Her fingers stroked over his chest, lips poised in a warm, sleepy smile as she regarded him.

"Mornin', " he said, though it couldn't have been midnight.

"Good morning." Amused, she brushed his lips with hers. "Are you alright?"

"Not rightly sure," he admitted. "Ask me again whence my heart stops poundin'. I'm an old man, ya know."

"Not from my perspective," she assured.

"How 'bout you?" He stroked her hair, sex-tousled and wild after their encounter. "You shiny, Nara? For honest?"

"Don't I look shiny?" Her eyes sparkled.

"That you do," he agreed. "I gotta check on a couple captainy matters...if only I could feel my own legs nowabouts."

She giggled.

"Think you can cope without me for an hour?"

"I'll feel very used." She yawned, snuggled more deeply into the sheets.

"Wench." He kissed her neck in a way that made her shiver, finished off with a light hug that had her crumbling. "One hour. Don't start without me now."

"Mal!"

She waited till he was gone before sitting up, wrapping herself in a robe. Carefully, she assembled materials for a sponge bath, filling a basin with warm, lavender-scented water. A ritual as ancient, as salient, as the tea ceremony, handed down from one companion to the next, taught along with human psychology and the karma sutra. Cleansing. Renewal. She opened the robe to the waist, dragged the loofah along her skin as she had so many times before. She didn't feel cleansed and renewed. She felt filthy. She soaked the loofa again and bathed her neck and shoulders. She couldn't rinse away the guilt with sweet-smelling water, and its pervading ache filled her, wrenched right to the bone.

"Nara?" The noise of boots on rungs. "Think I mighta left my stylin' suspend--hey." He took in the scene, baffled. "What's all this?"

"Nothing." She set her lips in a smile, closed her robe. "I just felt like a bath. You know how oil clogs the--"

"Don't lie to me." He shook his head slowly. "This--this is a companion thing, if recollection serves." He could recall Kaylee commenting on the post-coital bathing ritual in some awed diatribe on the oohs and ahhs of companiony-culture. Once he'd had the dubious fortune of walking into Inara's shuttle just after she'd bid a client farewell. He'd muttered something witty and cruel, left quickly with his flesh aflame. Now she was the one to blush.

"Really, Mal, you mustn't--"

"Oh, I mustn't. Tell met he truth. You play me just now?"

"Mal, I--" She lowered her gaze, wordless.

"Oh, this is just...You treated me like a ruttin' client, Inara! Just closed off any part o' you capable of actual feeling and let me make love to...to...to an illusion! You're good, sweetheart, I'll give you that. Hell, I didn't even notice I was screwin' someone else! What gives the right, gorrammit? Don't you think if I'd wanted a whore, I woulda hired one? "

Her eyes widened, and she spun on her heel, starting for the ladder.

"Hey." Groaning, he caught her wrist. "Weren't no call for that. I didn't mean--Ye su, I didn't mean that. Ai ya!" He released her, raked a hand through his hair. "Last thing I want's to hurt you. Why's it always end up that way?"

"It's alright." She sighed. "You're hurting, Mal; I understand that. And now you feel violated."

"I--never mind about that. Don't much wanna talk on that hospital stay just now."

"I--I meant by me, Mal. You feel that I took advantage."

He raised a brow.

"Bao bei, you go ahead and take advantage any time you feel the notion. One condition: it best be you doin' the takin'. I know I ain't schooled fancy but I do take pride in pleasurin' you, darlin'. Can't bear the thought o' those sighs and shudders bein' pretend, dong ma?"

"I shouldn't have done what I did...I only wanted. Go suh! When you touch me, Mal…it's like I lose control of myself, both body and mind. All those sensations and emotions: its overwhelming. And it…it frightens me. The things I feel when we make love...I've never felt them before."

He smiled a little.

"Say more stuff like that."

She smiled back.

"There's something I want to tell you. It may make you uncomfortable."

"Darlin', we're havin' a relationship talk. I'm already there and back."

---

Zoe returned from the kitchen with the bottle, found him standing over the cradle in the common room.

"Ahem."

Her expression was indignant, hands posed on either hip.

"She has the look of you." She brushed past him without a word, bent to lift the child. "Still, there's something of her father, perhaps around the mouth."

"Don't believe you ever met her daddy."

Gideon nodded.

"I never did. But I'm reasonably familiar with your mouth, and that ain't it."

" 'Ain't'," she remarked, ignoring the implication. "Next you'll be thieving and pulling scavenge jobs."

"I'm just trying to fit in here. You aren't the easiest bunch, you know."

"You don't say." She settled on the sofa, poked the nipple of the bottle into the baby's mouth.

"Maybe you could, you know, counsel me."

"Kinda therapy you need, Gideon, would take a professional. Or maybehaps a preacher."

He rolled his eyes.

"I didn't mean psychotherapy. Just…advice."

She smiled wryly.

"Oh, yeah. This is a good day."

"Shuh muh?"

She gave a long-suffering sigh.

"You got somethin' to say, say it."

"Right. Mal. Captain Reynolds. You've known him a long time."

"Too long to be handin' pieces of him over to you on a platter."

"I'm not asking for a bio, Zoe."

"What exactly is it you're after, Gideon?"

"A moment of his time."

She snorted.

"Captain ain't exactly holdin' court just now. Man's got a lot on his mind." Her eyes narrowed. "Seems you do as well. Don't suppose there's much chance of the Alliance taking you back after what went down at that hospital. Pretty soon you'll have to state your loyalties."

"Do you really doubt them, Zoe?"

She lowered her gaze to Raven, sucking steadily at the milk.

"Best you stay outta his path a few days, give the captain time to cool down. Wouldn't hurt for you to find a job on the ship. Help Kaylee out in the engine room or some such, show the captain you're not thoroughly useless. You might do well approachin' him on the bridge, after dinner when things are quiet-like."

Gideon nodded, reached out a tentative hand and touched a finger to the child's arm.

"You're radiant, you know. I've seen you without your clothes, and…wow. But watching you here, feeding your daughter—you're exquisite, Zoe."

She just laughed.

---

"Panic attacks tend to stem from feelings of chaos, a sense of control being lost. As Companion, I almost always felt in control of my situation and emotions." In a way, her former life offered a great deal of stability, an internal order. Ritual and repetition. Each appointment began with the traditional tea ceremony and ended with the loofa. In between, she would see to the client's needs, both the physical and the psychological. It was soothing, simple even. She never felt lost in the woods. "When I was with a client, I always knew what was expected of me, Mal. A life without love, without children…I believed my fate rested entirely in my hands. But fate's too grand, too far-reaching to fit into your palm. It's impossible to map one's own destiny. Those pesky complications…."

"Do know a thing or two 'bout them...So the other girls? They messed with your meds..."

"Perhaps. Or maybe it was just a fluke; after all, accidents do happen."

"That ain't your take though."

"No, Mal."

"She switched your prescription. Bu hui hen de po fu--"

"We can't know that for certain. But, yes, I think it's likely."

"Why? I don't get it."

"Dominique was my mentor, Mal. My teacher. I told you she had certain feelings for me...complicated feelings. And by then, Trevor and I had grown very close." She searched Mal's face for signs of discomfort with the turn of conversation. He wasn't exactly enjoying himself, but neither was he reaching for his gun. She supposed that was progress. "I think she may have done something like this to ensure my...continued dependence. She wished to bind me to her. I suspect she pushed me toward her brother with the same intentions, though the bond Trevor and I shared made her jealous in the end."

"That's one twisted jian huo."

"I imagine she was sad. Lonely. Often a companion's life can be that."

"So you miscarried..." His tongue tripped on the word but he got it out. "Elsewise...elsewise would you have kept it?"

"Trevor wanted me to have her."

"Her?" he repeated dully.

"He said he'd take care of us both." She smiled sadly. "In a way, he was young as I. Hopeful."

"How 'bout you?" He reached for her hand, changed his mind and let his fall to the bed. She smiled, linked their fingers.

"I was nineteen. I felt like my life was crumbling. To put it simply, I panicked." She recalled the hysteria, paralyzing fear that came wave upon wave until, physically and emotionally exhausted, she fell into fitful sleep each night. "I couldn't bear the loss of control. My body, my career--it was all slipping through my fingers, and fast. So I named her. And then I agreed to kill her."

"Hey." Mal cupped her cheek. "You was just a kid yourself and bein' played by those in deserve of horse whipping."

"I was River's age, or nearly."

" 'Bout that...what they done to her…'spect that stirs up some memories of a personal sort."

"I suppose it does."

"We can go slow with the, uh, physical part. Ain't no need to rush." He followed her gaze to his lap. "Not much need anyhow."

She smiled, cupped his cheek in her hand before letting it fall away.

"There's something else, Mal. The miscarriage...my body caused it. They said after I might never be able to have a child...I should have told you this before."

"Hey, now. Listen to me. That don't matter to me none, dong ma?"

"I know you want children, Mal."

"Inara...what I want is you."

She looked at her hands, trying for his sake not to cry.

"Marina," she said after a few seconds of silence.

He raised a brow.

She smiled.

"That's what I would have called her."

"Well, that's a real pretty name."

---

It still hurt.

He could never anticipate the gut-punch, felt it each time, hard as the first. Limbs cast, her pretty face mangled….

Simon didn't believe in God but was rutting close to hating Him.

"May I sit with you, River?"

"Not feeling especially loquacious."

"That's alright. Actually, I—I want to do most of the talking."

She yawned.

"I may fall asleep."

"I'll try not to take it personally. Six years. Do you know what that number represents?"

"Six years. Phrase. Six is an adjective, years a noun. Plural noun. Six modifies years."

"Exactly." He shook his head. "I'm six years older than you, and still you do everything first. You were the first to read Lolita—"

She murmured something under her breath.

"What was that?"

"In Russian."

"In Russian," he agreed. "You mastered calculus before I, deciphered the code for Father's liquor cabinet—though the last in light of recent psychic revelations is -slightly- less impressive. Guay, you even kissed a boy first. I believe you were nine."

"Kissed a girl first, too." She smiled vaguely.

"When did you kiss a—?" He groaned. "You know what I meant—brat. And now, I'm twenty-five years old. I'm married. I'm married to a space mechanic. I'm a fugitive, married to a space-mechanic, and living on a spaceship. Between us, I genuinely believed I had the better shot of giving Father a coronary. I even dreamed about it, arriving on their doorstep, perhaps during the gala for summer solstice. By then I'd have a couple kids, name one Serenity and the other…Dragon maybe. 'This is my son, Dragon. Say hello to Grandma, Dragon.' And of course you were there: brilliant, quirky Aunt River. But hands down, I had you beat in the categories of disgracing one's self and defiling the fine Tam name. It was a sweeping win, a noble achievement after years of being overshadowed by my beautiful, brainy little sis. And now I find myself handing over the crown. Yet again, the award goes to the talented River Tam, who at the ripe young age of nineteen gives our parents their first grandchild, not just any grandchild, mind you, but one fathered by the infuriating renegade-pirate-thief Malcom Reynolds, scourge of the Allied governments and a man whom mom and dad already loathe and abhor. In truth, River, I don't know why I even try."

She blinked at him, stunned, and he wondered whether he'd gone too far. Then a faint smile lifted her lips.

"Inappropriate use of humor."

"Well, you were always the funny one, too."

She traced the outline of his nose and mouth with her index finger.

"I think you're funny, Simon."

"Yes. Yes, I'm quite the comedienne."

He lowered his head to her pillow, stroked her hair with one hand.

"I won't always say the right thing, meimei."

She met his gaze, arched her brow in a gesture reminiscent of the old Earth-that-Was expression: duh. Not for the first time, he thought that she'd have made a fine actress.

"Shocking, I know. But then you've only seen me at my witty and articulate best….I—I'm trying, River. All our lives, I've been six years older. All our lives, I've been struggling to keep up."

For several seconds, there was silence save the sound of their breathing.

"Simon?"

"Yes, River?"

"I like the name Dragon."

He smiled.

"I'll keep that in mind."

---

The carpet was a thick, plush periwinkle. Through open-toed sandals, Rebecca felt the soft stalks tickle the sides of her feet. She shivered a little from the climate control, rubbed briskly at her bare arms. She'd worn her favorite sun dress for the occasion: a spring green that exactly matched her eyes. In three months, she hoped it wouldn't fit.

A brisk knock sounded at the door. She and Rex stood to greet him in whose office they waited.

"How are you, Rex?" The doctor clasped his hand firmly.

"Oh, I'm alright, Matty."

"Good to see you again, friend. And how are you feeling, Rebecca? Or should I say, 'Mommy'?"

"I suppose that's up to you, Matt." She laughed, smoothed a hand self-consciously over her cap of auburn hair.

Her voice was breathless, aching with hope. Rex laid a hand on the small of her back, rubbed an easy circle with his knuckles.

"We'll know soon enough." Matt winced after he'd said it; for Rebecca, it could never be soon enough. "My tests indicate we'll be set for implantation early next week."

He was rewarded with a smile that cut high on her cheeks.

"Is there anything I should do? Or not do?"

"You just take it easy for a few days, dong ma? Doctor's orders."

"Hey, Matty, how's that old boat o' yours. That hunk of go suh still flyin'?"

"Rex, language," Rebecca chided. She glanced down, noticed she'd forgotten her cardigan. It was no wonder she'd felt a chill before. "Honey? I'm so silly, I left my cardigan in the other room."

"Want me to get it for you, Beck?"

"No, no. You boys talk ships. I'll find my way."

She wandered back to the room where they'd examined her, strapped her into stirrups to see if her womb would prove suitable housing for precious cargo. But the indignity meant nothing when compared to the reward. Two potential prodigies, waiting dormant in a petri dish. In a mere nine months, she could hold one in her arms. Or two. Was it selfish to wish for both? Nine short months. An eternity and yet she'd already waited so long. She'd be thirty-five her next birthday, Rex forty-six. That made eight years of trying. Eight years of failing. But this time would be different--she could feel as much.

She found her sweater where she left it, folded neatly on a chair in the corner. She slipped her arms through the sleeves, hesitated with her fingers on the doorknob. She blew on her bangs, vision narrowing in on the file lying open atop the counter. They'd told her almost nothing of the biological parents. She knew that they were brilliant and gifted, wholly devoted to the Alliance and eager to see their offspring raised by a loving family. Their dream was that their children be reared to help the government in which they believed so strongly. Rex intimated that both were wanted by the Independents, that their lives might be in danger should they stay.

"I don't understand," she'd murmured, frowning. "A couple wants to give us their embryos?"

"Are you happy, Becca? If not, say the word."

"I--I can't believe it. Our babies." She shook her head, disbelieving.

"Of course, the Alliance would see to their education. These aren't just ordinary children, Beck. Bright doesn't begin to describe them."

"But...they'd be ours? They'd live with us?"

"Yes, yes. Maybe some overnight camps and the like when they're a few years older. And by the time they're teenagers, I'm sure we'll appreciate the reprieve. But, hell, that's ages away."

"Language, Rex," she murmured.

"Sorry...what do you think, Beck? Do I look too decrepit to be somebody's old man?"

She's just smiled and flung her arms around his neck.

"I love you, Rex Gray."

In the small room at the clinic, Rebecca Gray pushed a piecey bit of hair behind her ear, bent over the file. There was one thing she longed to know; it didn't take her long to learn.

"River." She tried the word out with her tongue. "So that's your name. I'm going to take good care of your children, River; that's a promise."

---

On the ride home, Rebecca dozed. She smiled in her sleep, a lilting curve of the lips that indicated she was at peace. Often it proved true that one decision shaped the course of a life. One encounter, one wrong turn. Rex rested his arm along the back of her chair, let his mind stray back to old memories.

It began just weeks ago: two old men shaping the fate of worlds in their swimsuits.

Matty settled his damp, lanky body back against the lounge chair, shook his hair, scattering water droplets. In the distance, twin moons hovered over the horizon, pale against the robin's egg sky.

"Cigar, Rex?" He flipped the lid on an intricate mahogany box, offered it to the man sprawled on his stomach beside him.

Rex hesitated.

"Help yourself, Sir." Matty grinned, passed Rex a flamer.

"Ah, that's good, Matty," Rex said on a sigh. Through the smoke haze, he watched Rebecca swim in the sunken pool, her long, lithe body stroking through the blue-green ripples. She emerged in the shallow end, the morning star gleaming off the gold streaks in her hair. She raised her face to the sky, blinking against the bright.

"They'll be serving lunch in a bit. Rex, I know I promised you the weekend, so you'll have to forgive my boorishness. But they're banging down my door, man."

"Matty…."

"I want this for you and Becca." Matty held a hand to his temple, squinted across the patio. "Water warm enough, honey?" he called.

Rebecca smiled, lifted her hand to wave.

"I met the Tam girl, Matty. And she's everything they say. But Reynolds? The man's so shattered…all the king's horses, if you know what I mean."

"I'll agree he's unpredictable. But broken? Come now, Rex. Broken men don't single-handedly strive to take down totalitarian regimes. The Alliance recovered well, remarkably so considering what could have transpired. Still, the Miranda recording had the potential to cripple your government."

"Your government too, Matty," Rex said lightly.

"Oh, sure, sure. But I'm a scientist, Rex. Politics is your world."

"My world." Rex snorted. "Some days I'm not sure."

"These kids, Rex. They're gonna be something else. Reynolds may be battered, but he's a born leader, a visionary. It took Hell to destroy him. It took Serenity. And of course, you know who his father was..."

"Hmm," Rex murmured. "Two embryos?"

"Two, impeccably engineered embryos, representing mommy and daddy at their best. Physical prowess and cunning intellect. The power and presence of a born leader. Resourcefulness, charisma. Girl's a beauty, too."

"And we'll have ten years with them? Uninterrupted?"

"Socialization in Core society is important to the higher ups. Of course, BSB will require regular medical examination, some say in their schooling."

"And after that? I won't have children of mine sent off after those gorramn cannibals."

"Rex, be reasonable. In ten years time, the Reavers will be all but exterminated. Those the hunters don't get will succumb to the radiation sickness--you know they fly without Core Containment. Telemachus 01 and 02 will be leaders, brilliant political minds. You have the chance at shaping the very future of the Alliance…to rear its future from the breast."

"The Tam girl…what they did drove her mad."

"It's different this time, Rex. I promise you that."

Rebecca wandered over, towel wrapped about her waist. Rex sat up, patted the space between his legs for her to sit.

"Are you boys talking business?" she chided. "And on such a lovely morning."

Rex wound a protective arm around her torso, squeezed her to his chest.

"You're right, Becca," Matty agreed. "How absolutely boorish of us. Come, you two: its looks like Nell's served our lunch.

He told Rebecca that night, an edited version of the offer Matty made. She could sense the gaps, holes in the plot. Of course she suspected: his wife was no fool. She was wise enough not to question…desperate enough.

A week later it was done. God help us, he pleaded. Somehow, he doubted even God could help him now.

---


	18. Chapter 18

---

The baby cried. In earnest, Carly didn't like him much. She suspected Mama didn't either, if the way he made her face crumple was any indicator. He'd been a finicky infant, too small and ill often. He was eight months out now and still a pain in the pigou. She could hear him this minute, sobbing in his cradle from the next room. He'd outgrow these fits by year's end, become a somber toddler. Tonight she wanted to smother him.

The thought guilted her, and she climbed out of bed, located her slippers and went to find her mama. Mama would know what to do. She'd fix him a bottle and nurse him back to sleep. Then they'd have cookies at the kitchen table, drink tea from the china like fancy ladies.

"Mama?" she called. "Ma--"

Mama wasn't alone in the kitchen. A man's voice accompanied her softer drawl.

Carly hesitated on the stairs, a slight girl with messy brown hair that hung often in her eyes. She sat on the step, pressed her face into the bars of the railing. The wood was cold through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders and listened hard. If she squinted, she could just make him out. A tall figure, face cloaked in the shadows. He wore black head to foot and his skin was the color of coffee with fresh cream.

"Rum or bourbon?" her mother asked the visitor.

"Mary..."

"I need a drink, Derrial. Don't make me drink alone."

"Bourbon, then."

He had a deep voice, soothing; Carly didn't much trust him.

"One more, then you'll tell me...Oh, God. Sweet, sweet Ye su. He's dead. Ain't he."

It wasn't a question, merely acceptance of fact.

The man called Derrial didn't answer, just pressed a fist to his lips. After a moment, he lifted the bourbon, swigged some down straight from the bottle. Mama always scolded Carly for drinking from the milk carton. Now she didn't say one word.

"Was it them that he thought?" she said finally.

"I believe so." His voice cracked on the last.

"He afeared this would happen. Told me so when last he came."

"He knew betrayal was a likely recourse. Bold men often chance such a fate."

"Thems that got children oughta forfeit the right to be bold. Once you got kids, your life ain't your own."

"Perhaps that's true, Mary…in a softer world. A world such as the one he sought."

"Hump him and hump his world, Derrial. I've a baby boy upstairs won't never know his daddy. Don't 'spect he'll experience this softer world of yours anytime's soon."

For a moment, neither spoke. Mama's shoulders shook with silent sobs.

"I loved him too, Mary," the man said at last. "Gorrammit, he was my friend, too. I know how you--"

"You know -what-, Derrial…? How I feel? Is that what you meant to say? Did you make love to him, Derrial? Did you? Then you couldn't possibly know…."

"He was like my brother. We attended university together, drank together. We went to pubs together and found willing women and got humped together. You think I can't miss him as you do? Yearn for his company…."

"You'll pine for a drinking buddy. I'm missing my lover."

He sniffed derisively.

"There's more to life than sex, Mary."

"Well, I 'spose that's so. There's also starving."

"No, Mary. Three months ago, he willed his accounts over to me, with strict instructions that half the remaining credits be turned over to you at the time of his death."

"And the other half? No, don't. Don't say her name. I don't think I can bear it just now."

"He was a man, Mary. Whole and flawed like any other. To remember him as something else is to do him an injustice."

"Sometimes I hate him, Derrial."

"Sometimes I hate him too, Mary."

Mama looked up, blinking back tears.

"Will they go for you? He said any that stood by him was like to be took down."

The man lowered his gaze. Carly thought she saw him frown but mayhaps it was a trick of the light.

"You needn't fret for my safety. I just thought…." His voice broke, and he had to begin again. "I just thought you should know. I'll be on my way."

"Please don't." It was a whisper, a plaintive keening that halted the man on his feet, had him turning. "Don't leave me alone right now, Derrial."

"Mary…." He took Mama's hands, filling Carly with an unfamiliar twitchiness. "I'm a poor substitute for the man you lost."

His hand curved around her cheek and she leaned in, as though drawing strength from his touch.

"Your hands are warm," she whispered, so soft Carly strained to hear. Without warning, she hiccuped.

"Mary…."

"Hush!" Mama pulled away. "Did you hear something?"

From her hiding spot, Carly gasped, clapped a hand over her mouth. Quiet as a newborn kitten, she tiptoed up the stairs. Safe in her room, she leaned against the big oak door, breathing hard. If Mama caught her eavesdropping again, she'd surely get a beating. Though she wasn't sleepy, not even a smidge, she climbed back into bed, tucked the covers up to her chin.

When she woke, it was raining. The man called Derrial was gone. Mama stayed locked in her room till the rain stopped.

Thirty-some-odd years later, Caroline slept under the awning of twin maples in her friend Moll's flower garden. When she woke, she couldn't recall who Derrial was, or explain the meaning of the strange dream, pulled as though at random from memories of a long-gone girlhood. She felt uneasy the rest of the day but forgot it all the next morning.

---

In earnest, he was eager to see her. Maybehaps he was comin' down with somethin'; after all, sentimental simply weren't a part o' his nature. He made a mental note to see the doc, just in case. Wouldn't do for the captain to be under the weather, what with them settin' down on Bellerophon within the hour. But first he had a wave to send:

"Is that my meddlin' sister? Hell, I hardly recognize you, Carly. Guess you look a mite less fearsome on this bitty screen."

"Don't let the picture fool you, Brother. I can nag you just as easily from Boros."

"Oh, I don't doubt it. So how's farm life treatin' you? Misty-eyed for molded protein yet?"

"It's not a farm, Malcom; Moll's a landscape artist. But she does grow some fairly-luscious hodgeberries in the east garden. And yes, I'll be sure to send y'all a crate come summer."

"Well, we'd be mighty grateful." He cleared his throat. "You, uh, you get that package we posted? Kaylee's been whining at me to ask…."

"Yes, yes I did. I especially loved the captures of the baby. She's getting big."

"Yep, gonna eat us outta ship and sky pretty soon."

"The rest of the crew though…everyone seemed so somber in their recordings. Is something wrong, Mal?"

"Shiny as a…shiny thing. Got a job lined up in Sweet Leaf, matter o' fact. Headin' that way now."

"For a thief, you're a rotten liar, Malcom Reynolds."

"For a sister, you're a pain in the—"

"Mal!"

He couldn't quite disguise the smirk.

"I best be signin' off now, Darlin'. You keep workin' on those conspiracy theories."

"Oh, wait: one thing more. It was sweet of you to send my sundries and whatnot. But I think you mixed in some old captures with the new ones of Raven."

"Oh, yeah? Which captures? Never exactly been one for home theater…."

That priest of yours…that shepherd. Book, isn't it? You know, Mal, it's the strangest thing. I feel as though I've seen him before."

"Maybe he went on a rockin' rim tour with the rest o' the abbey. Sang 'Michael Row the Boat Ashore' at the Snell Theater back on Shadow."

"Somehow I doubt that's it." She rolled her eyes. "Enjoy your stay on Bellerophon, Malcom. Watch your back."

"Always do."

He waved Mayella next, arranged for landing coordinates. Be a nice change workin' for folk didn't meet and greet with guns. And May seemed downright tickled at seein' him, even promised a hearty meal for him and his crew. He just hoped she wasn't -too- tickled; lately his life was just slightly more interesting than he preferred. Anyway, things seemed finally on the mend 'tween him and Inara. She had her secrets, surely, but he suspected they both had a few o' those. Whatever this was betwixt them two…he wasn't of a mind to stop it. She touched him in the hollow place, didn't quite fill it but made it feel again; that weren't not small feat. The first time he set eyes on Serenity, he wanted something more than just surviving. Surely, he couldn't quite possess Inara in the way he did this ship. But then Serenity weren't really his no more neither. So maybe having her—both his girls—in his life was enough. On good days, he could almost believe it.

---

Her shrieks sounded through the halls, finding him on his way back from the kitchen. Weren't exactly unfamiliar, song of the little siren. Remembered from her bad days like a lullaby, 'cept this tune made you wanna rip out your own arm hairs.

Doc had moved lil' sis to her own bunk, and Jayne lingered by the door, chewing bits of apple and listening to their exchange. The witch just called her brother somethin' to make a whore blush. Best he could tell, she didn't want her pain meds.

"Alright. I give up." Simon threw his hands in the air, retrieved the discarded syringe from the floor. "You're an adult now, River; I won't force you. Refusing pain meds goes against your doctor's recommendation, but--"

"Make a note on my chart, Simon."

He shook his head at her, but couldn't quite keep his lips from twitching.

"I'll just be on rounds then." Rolling his eyes, he shoved past Jayne on his way out the door.

"Don't say excuse me or nothin'!" Jayne yelled after him. "Hell, some people got no manners."

He peered into River's bunk. For a genius and a killing machine, girl sure was poutin' like a petulant teenager. Made him think o' his big sisters, broodin' over some boy or another half his childhood, hair all tangled and stringy, lower lip stuck out in frustration. He had a strange urge to give her ponytail a good tug and steal her makeup, not that the witch wore any.

He cleared his throat loudly, waited for her to look up.

"Ain't my business, mind you." He gave a shrug to show he didn't much care one way or the other. "But turnin' down pain meds ain't exactly the brightest course. Put up a good show, sure. Don't accomplish a whole lot in the long run."

"I wanna feel," she said quietly.

"Hell, girl. You don't wanna feel this. Not nobody likes pain, 'cept maybehaps the cap'n, and he ain't really all there, if you get me."

"Everlasting pain. Sometimes sharp like needles. Other times its dull, kind makes your bones ache. Cold as ice or hot like coals. Meds make it run and hide but it's always there...lurking in the shadows, waiting."

"Don't gotta be that way, River." He shrugged, uncomfortable with the turn of conversation. "Lots o' things feel good. Life ain't all torture an' violence...not that the violence don't sometimes feel good. Sometimes killin' a man can be downright satisfactory...Well, there's other stuff..."

"Name some."

"Whiskers on kittens?"

"Simon's allergic."

"Simon's 'lergic to pussy? Well that ain't no shocker."

She raised a brow. He sighed.

"I'm thinkin'."

Now it was River's turn to sigh.

"We could be here awhile."

---

Mal poked his head through the infirmary door.

"That sweet song of earlier the sound of lil' sis?"

Simon looked up from his source box, motioned for Mal to have a seat on the table.

"It seems River would prefer to manage her own health care options hence forth. I don't know why I'm surprised, she's read half my med books."

Mal rolled up his sleeve for the innoc; according to the Cortex, Reavers brought some sort of pox along with the usual maiming and death. Half the town was out with it.

"You, uh...you want I should speak to her, Doc?" He winced at the pinprick, shaking his head when Simon pressed a hot-pink bandage to the flesh of his inner elbow. Clearly one of Kaylee's purchases.

"My sister's a grown woman, Captain. That fact's become increasingly evident and it's time I accepted it as such. Actually, it's long past."

" 'Spect there's some truth in that." He rolled down his sleeve, a little dizzy on his feet after the injection. "Any meds she needs...can go ahead and pick 'em up in town. Sweet Leaf ain't exactly big city, but they oughta have the basics."

"We are running low on a few items. Captain?"

Mal hesitated at the door, turned back.

"What is it you intend to do?" At the captain's silence, he attempted to clarify. "I mean about the--"

"I know what you meant. And I dunno, Doctor. Don't got a single ruttin' notion."

"You'll tell me...when you get one: a notion."

"You're on the short list. Make sure the rest o' the crew's innocked. We break atmo in an hour."

---

If Inara were fire and gold tinge, Mayella was like the sea--cool greens and jewel blues. She met them at the landing dock, flung herself at Mal as soon as he stepped off ship.

"Malcom."

His name sounded muffled, spoken as it was against his chest. Her hands drifted down for a quick squeeze of his backside.

"Hey, kiddo." He patted her head a little awkwardly, tried to disentangle. "Mayella, this is my crew. Crew, May."

"Captaiiiin." Kaylee shot him a death glare, nudged Inara forward with her shoulder. "Ain't you gonna introduce everyone proper?"

"We've met, actually." Inara extended a hand, eyes lit with an amber light Mal didn't quite recognize. "We were here a couple months back."

"Of course." Mayella smiled curiously, taking the smooth bejeweled hand in hers. "Mrs. Reynolds, isn't it?"

Inara blinked, opened her mouth only to close it again.

"Well, see, that was for a job," Mal supplied. "Inara and me...we ain't exactly--"

"--anything official," Inara finished with a smile that fell short of her eyes. "Be assured, Malcom Reynolds is still very much a bachelor. If you'll excuse me...?"

She strode away, Kaylee fast in her wake.

Mal turned back to Mayella, forcing a smile.

"So. How do I go 'bout catchin' this plague?"

---

After, Mal caught up with her outside her bunk. She and Kaylee conversed in whispers, falling silent at his approach.

"Ladies." He nodded a greeting. "Kaylee, mind givin' us a moment?"

"Sure, Cap'n." Her eyes were weary, and she squeezed Inara's hand in passing. "You know where to find me, honey."

Mal held his breath, waited till they were alone.

"I probably should have mentioned...May and me...well, we used to..." He let the silence serve as explanation.

"I'm hardly blind, Mal." She made her tone breezy. "You remember I've some degree of experience in that sphere."

He winced, and for a moment she softened, wondering whether she'd crossed a line. Then:

"Inara…are you jealous?"

"Please, Mal. In your fantastic and highly-deluded dreams, perhaps."

A slow smile spread over his face, shifting his expression to one of amusement.

"Oh, so those weren't claws? And, point of interest, you ain't so much jealous in my dreams as…desperate."

"I'm…desperate."

Her voice was dangerously quiet. He was workin' her up into a powerful fury, and enjoyin' himself more than a little.

"It's good you can admit as much."

"It's fortunate that 'May' finds you so delightful. In a few days, you'll be feeling a little 'desperate' yourself."

She brushed past him with a roll of her dark eyes, hair hitting him smack in the face on her way down the hall.

Mal groaned.

"Inar--"

"Sir, do you have a minute?"

Zoe, looking all manner o' beat.

"Lookin' like I got a few of 'em just now," Mal admitted with a sigh. He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. "What can I do for ya, Zoe?"

"Mind my little girl for a spell? I need a night off, Captain. I -really- need that."

"Huh, 'spect you are lookin' a bit..." He trailed off, realizing there was no wise way to finish that sentence. "I'm first to admit Little Chick's fine company, Zoe. But as it is, I got a meeting with the client in not half an hour. Hey, though, maybehaps we can get you a sitter yet, if'n you're not too particular on references."

"Honestly, Sir? At this point, I'm liable to leave my baby with Jayne."

Mal shot her a sidelong glance.

"You gotta stop doin' that."

"Doin' what, Sir?"

"Readin' my mind." He mimed a shudder. "It's downright freaky."

Zoe sighed, followed the captain down the hall.

"This is gonna go great."

---

"Jayne!"

A female voice, perturbingly insistent. Jayne nearly dropped his box of med supplies, being donated for a small fee to the people of Bellerophon. Beside him, Mal raised a brow.

"Sounds as though you're bein' paged, Jayne."

"Quit your hollerin', girl!" He rolled his eyes for Mal's benefit.

"Jayne...kid's havin' a rough time with it." Mal cleared his throat, ducking his head to avoid eye contact. "Be a kindness to show her some. " He retrieved the box from Jayne's hold and continued down the corridor.

Cursing inventively, Jayne stalked into her bunk, shoving the door shut behind him.

"Tune in next week for another thrillin' episode o' the ruttin' River Tam show. Watch the dumbass captain turn his best merc into a gorramn babysitter."

"Been lookin for you. Considered your list." She met his eyes sympathetically. "Found flaws."

"What the rut you talkin' bout, Girl?"

"Your list. Pleasant or pleasurable experiences that don't include violence...or cats."

Jayne scratched his face, thoughtful.

"Is it just me, Girl, or is the hair on your head startin' to resemble the hair on your..." "Hell, gimme that there brush. Wo de ma, from baby sitter to hair dresser."

She cocked her head away, suspicious.

"Pinches when Inara does it."

"Aw, hell, River, I hope to hell you're talkin' 'bout hair-combin'." Gentle-like, he began workin' through the knots. "Used to do this for my sisters. They'd slap me upside the head if'n I hurt 'em."

"We should really get to the list."

"Fire away, crazy."

"Consumption of alcoholic beverages."

"Well, hell, that's fun."

"Overindulgence tends to result in extreme discomfort the following morning. Sensitivity to light and sound, aversion to food. Often there's vomiting. Also..." She hesitated, eyed him seriously. "Many who consume suffer the severe affliction known as beer-goggles. Not everyone recovers."

"Ughhh." Jayne shuddered, as though reliving a particularly distasteful recollection.

"Item two: sexual coitus. Preliminary research can best be categorized as...anticlimactic."

"So you've, uh...well, good for you."

"Awkwardness, aggravated by nudity and physical discomfort. A predominant feeling of bathos." She noted his blank expression, shrugged. "It wasn't like the movies."

"You should talk to Kaylee. If she remembers her first go." He grinned. "Guess Inara's like to have a fuzzy memory on those points as well."

"Literal and metaphorical tearing..."

Now Jayne winced.

"Well, you gotta do it more 'n once, for rut's sake."

"Couldn't focus. Kept drifting..."

"Hell, then you ain't been done right." Realizing how that sounded, Jayne set down the brush and stood up, retreating a few paces. Just 'cuz they weren't airborne didn't mean Mal couldn't shove him out the airlock in a few days time. "Well, hey. What about the rest of it? What's the next item?"

"Only two items."

"Drinkin' and sexin'? That's all I come up with?"

"Yes."

"Well. Well, maybe you should reconsider the drinkin'."

---

Mal dropped Zoe in town on his way to the meet and greet. She climbed off the back of his borrowed rider, tugging her skirt down over her thighs. He started to rev up the engine but she lingered, one hand on the handlebars.

"Sure you don't need back up, Sir?

"Just a get acquainted, this. Cargo ain't even in town till tomorrow."

"Sir, what is the cargo?"

"Not rightly sure," Mal admitted, a little uncomfortably. "Not nothin' to worry on, though. You just enjoy your night off. Don't break too many hearts...or noses, dong ma? Ain't exactly inclined to bust you outta jail tonight."

"I'll try to behave myself," she said dryly. "Sir...do you think Raven'll be--"

"Fine. Jayne's only two thirds so useless as he looks. Only half as inept. Little Chick'll be pretty near in tact when her mama returns."

"Be careful tonight, Sir."

"Zoe...when am I anything else?"

The client looked to be about sixty, white-haired and bearded with owlish glasses and a measure of respectability afforded by age and experience with the wine list.

"Captain Reynolds. Please sit. Do you tend toward reds or whites?"

His voice rang higher than expected, faintly cartoonish in its lilt. Mal took his seat at the small, candlelit table, feeling not unlike one half of a slightly unorthodox blind date.

"Honestly, Mr. Kane, I typically tend toward the barley wine."

Kane smiled, beckoned the loitering waiter.

"Two beers, then. Will you have something to eat?"

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather get down to business. Heard you have some cargo needs moving."

"I can appreciate you're eagerness, Captain. You've a reputation for..how do they say? Getting the job done."

"That's what we do. And Mal's just fine, by the by."

"Alright. Mal." Kane seemed surprised, though pleasantly so. "Then you must call me Amos."

"Well, Amos, how can my crew be of service?"

"I've a shipment bound for Persephone." Amos sipped his beer tentatively, as though he didn't quite trust it. "Nothing illegal, naturally."

"Naturally." Mal hid a smile over his own pint.

"But one does prefer to avoid Alliance meddling whenever possible."

"Shouldn't be a problem, Amos. Just outta curiosity, what -is- the cargo?"

"All in good time." He patted Mal's hand as a grandfather might, firm and reassuring. "Might I ask you a question, now, son?"

" 'Spose you might."

"You'll forgive my being a nosy old man. But then age entitles one to so few perks, yes? I believe I'll hold on to my nosiness. Captain Reynolds...Mal...I'll admit your behavior concerning the, um, Miranda, has piqued my curiosity. For a smuggler--forgive the term if its insulting--you've made yourself quite a number of interesting enemies."

"Some truth in that," Mal admitted.

"Would you do it again? That's my question. If you could go back...would you replicate your actions?"

Mal hesitated, met the older man's eyes.

"No. Any other questions?"

---

He headed back to Mayella's ranch, in want of a long nap.

He awoke in the hammock to the melodious chatter of female voices. Sleepy and disoriented, he blinked against the setting star, turned his head in the direction of the sound. They sat together on the splitered-old oak of the porch swing, rocking idly and speaking as sisters, friends for long years over. Inara held her knees to her chest, her smooth, bare toes at odds with the weathered appearance of the wood. Beside her, Mayella stretched out a long, denim-covered leg, nudging them to and fro with a gentle rhythm. The two seemed deep in conversation, heads bent, temples angled toward each other. Mal couldn't help wondering just what turn of discussion merited such complete absorption. As the only point of connection he could conjure was a common familiarity with his lovemaking techniques or lack thereof, he only felt like half a lecherous hump for spyin'.

Squinting across the yard, he saw Inara say something that had Mayella grinning widely. Disbelieving, he watched, openmouthed, as Mayella unbuttoned her blousey thing to show Inara what looked like a very fine brassiere.

-Womanly business.- Rolling his eyes, he settled back on the bed of mesh, enjoying the warm blush of sunlight on his skin. He jumped when peals of laughter--Inara this time--traveled across the lawn to meet his ears. Oh, Dear God, don't let 'em be talkin' 'bout technique. With a groan, he sat up.

"You know," he said in a voice that carried. "Maybehaps you could relocate the girly gossiping to another porch swing, let a man rest in peace."

The ladies looked surprised then annoyed then amused in turn.

"C'mon over, Mal." Mayella smiled wickedly, met Inara's gaze.

"Yes, Mal." Inara's eyes twinkled in the twilight. "-Swing- with us."

"Ain't that but a tempting offer. Think I'm comfy on my own, xie xie."

"A pity." Mayella stood, rolling her neck to remove the creaks. "And here I was gonna regale Nara with the Square Dance Story."

"What's the Square Dance Story?" Inara asked, intrigued.

"In my own defense, for a man, she had awful soft hands."

"Oh, my." Inara pressed a hand to her lips.

"And on that note: I've some affairs that need attending, and this evening at that. So I'm gonna hafta leave you by your lonesomes tonight." Mayella reached for the crotched blanket that served as her wrap, slipped it over her head. "I trust you'll find some manner o' amusin' yourselves?"

"Oh, 'spect we'll think o' somethin'," Mal assured.

Mayella kissed Inara's cheek, wiggled her fingers at Mal before heading for the door.

"Don't forget now, Malcom. I promised you a surprise."

"Ain't exactly real keen on surprises of late."

"You'll like this one. Night, kids; play safe."

Rolling his eyes, Mal wandered up to the porch, took a seat beside Inara on the swing.

"Pretty night, huh."

"Very," she agreed. "She's lovely, Mal. Mayella...Funny and warm. I like her very much."

"Yep, good girl there. 'Spose it'd be unseemly askin' the nature of this newfound kinship."

Inara just smiled.

"I suppose jealousy is a new feeling for me. I've not had much experience with that emotion in my line of work, and not that your usual arrogance helped the situation, but I...I do apologize, Mal. "

" 'Sokay." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "On you, green looks real pretty."

"Hey, guys." Kaylee padded out onto the porch and planted herself between them, tossing an arm around each of their necks. "Wondered where you two got off to..."

"Nope, Lil' Kaylee, not nobody's gettin' off here."

He pretended to cringe as Inara reached around to slap his shoulder. Kaylee just laughed.

"So me and Simon was just talkin' before whilst we was in bed--don't make that face, Cap'n; we're married. Anyhow, you'll never believe the idea he done come up with, you're gonna love it!"

---

A double date. Why in the nine hells had he agreed to this? Surely there was druggin' involved...and wiles. Point of fact, they'd double-teamed him, hinting none-too-subtly that they could all of 'em use the leisure time. He didn't exactly take quarrel with that point; surely a night of relaxation and diversion weren't a bad notion. He got fuzzy on the hows and wherefores, not at all certain how the four of 'em ended up on a white-sand beach at midnight, slugging down a sweet apricot wine straight from the bottle and playing some silly game of Kaylee's invention. Mal wasn't certain as to the rules, as Kaylee was just a bit too buzzed for proper explanation. It seemed to involve a lot of lying and an equal amount of drinking. Still, situation weren't all bad. Inara sat sprawled between his legs, head resting back against his chest. She held one of his hands in her lap, playing absently with his fingers while she laughed at some joke he'd missed.

"Okay, honey, your turn." Kaylee gave Simon a sharp nudge from her spot beside him. "See, this is fun. Right?"

The others nodded, determined to make it so rather than disappoint her.

"Your turn, Simon. 'Member, two truths and one lie."

"I, uh, well. Hmm. Once, when my parents were on holiday, I rented out the bedrooms in the east wing to my friends by the hour. In the med acad, I spent two years on the pep squad. At eight, I broke my tail bone playing ice hockey." He held up his hands. "Okay, which is the lie?"

Mal grinned.

"Hard as it is to reconcile the image of you playin' contact sports, I'm gonna have to go with pep squad. You gotta be the least peppy person I know, next to Jayne."

Simon frowned, as though deciding whether to be insulted.

"I'm...cheerful."

Mal snorted. Inara gazed politely at her lap.

"Aw, no you're not, Baby." Kaylee snuggled into Simon's shoulder, resting her cheek there.

"Doc, you're 'bout as cheersome as..." Mal hesitated, at a loss. "Hell, I'm too tired to be witty. Name something un-cheersome, Lil' Kaylee."

"Hmm, how 'bout...you?"

Inara giggled until Mal turned to glare.

"You got somethin' to say, Nara?"

"Yes, Mal; I do. Kaylee, I think that's an unfair assessment. I'm certain the captain was cheerful for an entire day last...spring, was it?"

Kaylee choked on her wine, sputtering, passed the bottle off to Inara.

"You know, Doctor. I think I've had just about enough o' feminine company. Maybehaps you and me take a swim."

"Oh, shiny!" Kaylee leapt up, already peeling her top over her head. "Skinny Dipping!"

"That's not a good idea." Simon and Mal spoke in unison, exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"Aw, c'mon, don't be babies. It's a gorgeous night and we got this big empty beach. Who's to stop us?"

"Common decency?"Simon tried.

"In earnest, Lil' Kaylee, I've seen you in your skivvies more 'n enough for one lifetime."

"Was just tryin' to lighten the mood." Kaylee shrugged. "Things been feelin' a little tense past few weeks."

"You know, Kaylee, I think skinny dipping sounds like the perfect suggestion. " Rising, Inara began unbuttoning her blouse. "I haven't been in ages."

Kaylee gave a little cheer and tossed her own tee shirt in Simon's lap.

"If they ain't man enough to join, guess we'll just have to entertain our own selves."

Inara smiled, shimmied out of her skirt.

"I guess we will." She followed Kaylee down to water's edge, offering Mal one last over-the-shoulder gaze before tossing her hair and wading into the cool cobalt blue.

"Bye, boys," Kaylee waved, echoing Inara's hair toss.

"Huh," Mal said from his spot on the sand.

"Huh noted and agreed upon. I believe a challenge has been laid down, Captain."

"Would seem so." Mal sighed and started unlacing his boots. "Try not to stare at my ass now, Doctor."

"I'll do my best to refrain." He pulled his sweater over his head and unbuckled his trousers, turned to Mal just in time to see the captain lower his undershorts.

"Um...Captain. I believe the ladies left on their, uh, delicates..."

"Ain't one for doin' things half...uh, assed." He grinned, strode boldly toward the shore. "Come now, Doc. Man in your profession oughta be reasonably comfortable with the human anatomy."

"I've certainly seen yours time enough." Rolling his eyes, Simon dropped his shorts and followed. In the distance, the girls' skin gleamed shiny-white between the inky black of the sky and the sea. He listened to the sound of their laughter as the water lapped at his feet, the night air fresh and cool and clean.

This--seeing Kaylee happy--was Simon's serenity.

---

The cantina spilled out into a courtyard, strewn with palm trees and paper lanterns and remnants of the papaya margaritas that were the pub's key selling point. Zoe sipped at something clear. Gideon pegged it a vodka tonic until he remembered she was still nursing. Water maybe, or a club soda if she'd felt the yearning for something fizzy.

Gideon ordered a rum and Blue Sun, shaking his head at the little turquoise umbrella that served as stirrer. He took a seat at an empty table and watched her dance. She'd worn a black and white wrap dress that left most of her long legs bare, dipped just low enough at the neck to send frustration levels on the rise. She'd clipped up her hair with a barrette made out of a shell, and skinny tendrils fell down to tickle her neck.

Sipping his drink, he studied her movements. Fluid and willowy, whether alone or with a partner, eyes closed to let the music overpower. In any of the capacities they'd known one another--intimates, enemies and lately, reluctant allies--he'd never seen this side of her. Actually, aside from their admittedly speedy roll in the proverbial ship's bunk, he'd never seen her without her holster. He'd have bet a hefty sum of coin she had a pistol bound to her shapely thigh under that heady little dress. He ground an ice cube between his teeth--a bad habit though certainly not his worst--and wondered whether she'd ever danced this way for her dead husband. Repulsed by his own mind, he ordered another rum and Sun--he hadn't the stomach for shots--and averted his eyes. Clearly, she'd come here to escape. Though he'd happened upon the same shoddy pub--hardly a feat in a town of three thousand--Gideon would allow her that reprieve.

He started toward the exit, resigned to leave her to her night in Mexico. Ducking under a pool cue, he slipped past two girls who tried to crown him with a sombrero and ignored the sulky brown eyes of an hourglass blonde. A disturbance near the bar caught his gaze, and he hesitated. A woman, obviously a professional and likely underage, if such things held weight here on the Rim.

The guy was medium height, pretty-faced for a boy. A cowboy hat rode low on his temple, and a meaty hand held firm to her wrist.

"I told you no, Wyatt. Ain't workin' no more tonight."

"And what would old man Rawlins' think o' that, Shelley? Knowin' your cheatin' him outta an honest night's wages..."

"Wyatt, just let me alone." Her voice took on a note of pleading. "I'm real tired, okay?"

"Well, see that ain't no trouble. Was plannin' on you bein' on your back anyhow."

His friends laughed, and the girl, Shelley, lowered her face to her whiskey. The cowboy wrapped an arm around her waist, bumped her back into his hips.

"You feel that, sugar? That's what they call a sense of urgency."

She was squirming now, bending forward in her effort to pull away. She tried to wiggle down out of his hold but he wrenched her upright, shoving her full-on against the bar.

"I ain't playin' no more, Shelley. You're gonna give it to me, hear?"

"Hell, Wyatt, I'll give it to you for free." Gideon let his fist fly into the kid's pretty jaw. He stood over the cowboy's prone form, shaking his stinging hand. "Was it good for you?"

The girl hung on his arm after, all wide eyes and gratitude.

"Listen, Mister. That was mighty good o' you, truly. Most folk wouldn't even...was real sweet what you done. I wasn't lyin' before 'bout bein' too tired. Elsewise I'd do you for nothin'. Maybehaps you come by tomorrow night?"

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm really not interested."

He brushed her off, met Zoe at the door. She was shaking her head.

"You do have the captain's way of making friends."

Mal could certainly be off-putting. And yet he had a friends, a whole ship's full. Where was the logic?"

"Hwoon dan had it coming, and if I hadn't, you would've. Just saving him the shame of getting it done by a girl."

She hid a smile.

"Was good of you, though. Not many would go to such trouble for a 'lowly' whore."

"Violence toward women is abhorrent." Gideon shrugged. "No matter how lowly the woman."

He motioned her to precede him out the door. She had a look of bemusement, but he missed it in the darkness.

---

After, she laid her head on his chest, listened to his heart thud under her ear. He stroked her wet hair with one hand, the other holding her close as the night breeze dried their skin. She shifted, resting her hands on his chest, her chin in her hands.

He seemed strangely restful, lips curving lazily as he met her gaze.

"There's a pretty lady drippin' water all over me." He fingered a sodden curl.

"Malcom Reynolds swimming in the buff, and with his crew nonetheless." She smiled. "In truth, I never thought I'd see the day."

"And now said crew's gettin' busy down the beach." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the sighs and giggles. "This a typical double date?"

"I imagine wine consumption and skinny dipping still feature rather heavily in the teenage dating scene."

"So what happens now that I got you damp and drunk?"

"I believe you have that backwards, Captain."

"Darlin', this was all part o' my master plan."

While she was rolling her eyes, he rolled her over on the blanket, settled into the space between her thighs.

He stifled her soft gasp of surprise with his mouth, used his lips to nudge hers apart. He suckled her throat while her fingers fisted in his hair. After a moment, he lifted his head.

"Huh."

"What is it?"

"Nothin'. Was just thinkin' this is the most normal thing you and me ever done."

She smiled, stroking a hand down his face.

"Make love to me, Mal."

He raised a brow.

"If you're not ready yet...well, I can settle for heavy petting." He cupped her breast to illustrate.

She giggled, pulling his face down to the curve of her neck.

"I assure you I'm ready, Mal. I want to...what's that quaint Earth-that-Was expression? Go all the way."

"I gotta give you a pin or somethin' come mornin'?"

"Your varsity jacket, I think."

"Well, 'spose it's okay, long as I don't gotta wear your clothes as part o' the deal."

"Oh, what a thought."

"Tell me something truthsome-ly, Nara. How do you feel, right now this minute?"

"Truthfully? I feel fortunate, Mal."

"Yeah." He brushed her lips. "Yeah, me too."

---

Around three in the AM, Mal kicked Simon awake, motioned for him to gather up Kaylee.

"Aw, Cap'n. Why can't we just sleep here?" she whined, all droopy eyes and irritable.

"Well, Lil' Kaylee, this here's a private beach, likely belongin' to fellow owns that big monstrosity yonder. And whilst I give you and Simon free reign on Serenity for conductin' your, ahem, marital relations, some folk don't take so kindly wakin' up to such. Dong ma?"

"Captain Meany," she murmured around a yawn but stumbled to her feet.

Mayella gave them run of the ranch, but there were hardly bedrooms enough for the whole crew. Back on Serenity, Mal saw Kaylee and the doc off to their bunk before half-carrying Inara back to his. They made halfhearted attempts to undress, but the wine and the sex had left them lazy. He laid her out on his bed and collapsed beside her.

He woke to a voice he couldn't quite place. One thing for certain: it surely didn't belong in his bed chambers. Reluctantly, he squinted open one eye.

"Son of a bitch!" Mal sat up, disbeliving. "That you, Monty? Or is this just another o' those dreams I ain't like to mention."

"C'mere you hwoon dan and gimme a hug!"

Inara jumped a little, made a subtle attempt to raise the sheet over her chest. Realizing this was a friendly invasion, she considered going back to sleep. But Monty was grabbing her hand in his beefy one, tugging her into a hearty hug as well. She attempted a pleasant smile.

"Good morn--"

"Well, now look at this! The great Malcom Reynolds got hisself a girl. And a right pretty one at that!" He elbowed Mal significantly.

"Yeah, she ain't half bad." Mal grinned as Inara rolled her eyes. "Maybehaps you and me go for a walk, Monty, let the lady dress in peace."

"Well, okay, but later me and the little woman gonna have a talk. Malcom Reynolds, a romantic? Now that's somethin' I gotta hear for my own self. May didn't tell me none o' this when she done asked me to come."

Monty offered Inara a wide grin and a wink before starting up the ladder.

"May, huh? Damn that girl and her surprises. Though as surprisin' goes, this surely ain't the worst sort. You really come all this way just for a visit? I'm touched, Monty." With an apologetic cringe for the half-dressed lady in his bed, Mal followed Monty up to the deck.

"Well, Mal, that ain't entirely all. Doin' a job o' my own for ole Amos."

They wandered toward the kitchen, empty at this ungodly hour. Mal measured out grounds for coffee, watched it brew in seconds.

"You know Kane? Huh. Whatdya think of him, truthsome?"

"Trustworthy fella, Mal, you can be 'sured. Ran guns for the Browncoats, you know. Had his own ship, heap almost as ugly as yours."

"Don't 'spose you can tip me off as to the cargo I'm transporting?"

"Amos didn't tell ya?"

"Hell, Monty. How contraband we talkin'?"

"No, no. Nothin' like that. It's just..."

"Don't make me withhold caffeine, Monty. I've seen you without a cuppa. Vision ain't pretty."

"Aw, don't get your panties twisted, Mal. It's just a few penguins."

"A few what?"

Monty grabbed the mug and took a long swallow.

---


	19. Chapter 19

---

Some would be surprised to hear that Malcom Reynolds still believed in love. He did, though; a few times he'd even borne witness to its casualties. In Zoe and Wash, he'd observed the inexplicable, the sweet and the hot and the unnaturally tragic. In Simon and Lil' Kaylee--well, nausea. Rabbit-like mating rituals. But beneath it all there was a deep caring that might've been love. He thought it was love. Yes, Mal believed in love; he just didn't get it. Up until now.

Weren't no mystery, just a moment. A moment of you thinkin' you might not be wholly alone in the world. One perfect instant of intimacy. A heartbeat of connection. Was almost ironical, or maybe it was natural as the Black and the cosmos. He'd finally found companionship, or maybe it was the Companion found him. She walked right onto his boat. What seemed like ages ago, she'd baited him into renting her that shuttle and unknowingly crewed herself up for one hell of a wild ride. Was the trip coming to a close? Sometimes he hoped against hope there was an end in sight. Sometimes he feared that end.

In any case, seemed prudent to make a present of some protection.

"Mal...this is a lovely gesture. I think. But don't you think it's a little...well, large?

"I thought you could stow it away in your cleavage..." He hesitated, reconsidering. "Huh."

"What?"

He studied her chest, eyes narrowed.

"Just that they looked bigger in my head."

He ducked just in time to avoid the hand flying at his head, caught her around the waist and hauled her down on the bed. She dug her nails into his underarms, retaliating with well-aimed tickling.

"Hey, hey. You--you are not playin' fair, darlin'."

He kissed her till both were breathless, till she was warm and responsive in his arms. They were fast approachin' the point of no return. Any minute now, they'd fly on past. He hoisted himself up by the arms, administered one final kiss to the tip of her nose.

"Come on, get your wrappy thing."

"Where are we going?" she asked warily.

"Gonna go buy you a girly gun, cupcake."

"Every woman's fantasy." She rolled her eyes but let him clasp her hand, lead her out the door.

---

Two words. Two, simple words. How had they the power to alter everything?

When they'd first learned of the pregnancy, her immediate impulse was to shop. Nesting, Rex termed it, kissing her cheek, lips, belly. He laughed, told her to buy out the Core with his blessing. She took her mother, who'd longed for this almost as long and hard as Rebecca herself. Together, they filled boxes and satchels, selecting the most state-of-the-art in cradles and carriages, the most supple-to-touch in baby blankets and sleeper suits. They bought everything in duplicate.

"I have a hunch, Becca." Matty's face, grinning over the Cortex. "Don't tell Rex till we're sure."

Two plush comforters the color of mustard seed. Matching robin's-egg teddy's "to hug on when Mummy was too busy." She purchased them because they pleased her, but the elderly salesman was mistaken. She'd never be too busy.

She picked out a half dozen maternity dresses and a normal-sized one that happened to catch her eye. She paid for her purchases and changed in the dressing room, wanting to wear the new outfit home to surprise her husband.

Seeing her mother off, she took a hover-cab back to the house. On her way to his study, she tried not to let the floorboards creak beneath her feet. She crept to the door in just her stockings, put her ear against the wood. Matty's voice. She smiled, started to twist the knob. Some instinct had her hesitating, cocking her head to hear more. They were talking about vitamins, she supposed. Something important, that she need take every day. She rolled her eyes. As if she wouldn't follow all of Matty's advice regardless...

The two words rolled off Rex's tongue so easily she thought she'd imagined them. But there was no mistaking that name, nor it's implications.

"Malcom Reynolds."

She tried it out later, alone in her room, naked save the towel she'd donned after her bath. She sat at her dressing table, studying her own image in the mirror. Her hair was wet. Water droplets slid down her neck, disappearing over bare shoulders. She felt a chill and shivered.

Rex entered then, bent down for a kiss.

"So did you empty our savings? You just missed Matty by the way."

Malcom Reynolds. Malcom Reynolds.

"I was feeling a little worn." She compelled her mouth to relax. "It must be the excitement."

"Don't overdo it, Beck." He unbuttoned his shirt, folded it neatly over the back of a chair. "If you're spent, we can skip the Cabot's soiree tonight. Please, please tell me you're spent."

Malcom Reynolds. Malcom Reynolds.

She felt her heart beat in accompaniment. A rhythm of sickening thuds. Could he hear them? She put a hand to her chest, wondered if she'd be ill.

"Rex, we must go. I wanna share our good fortune with our friends." Smile, Becca; really, you should smile.

"Oh, if you insist."

He drew her up in a light hug, and she squeezed back, desperately clinging to something already lost.

"Try and get in a nap while I shower. Claudia Cabot." He mocked a shudder. "Have I pledged my undying love today, Beck?"

"Not today." It was an old joke of theirs, a line repeated over and often. This time the words stuck in her throat.

"My mistake." That was his line. He hesitated at the bathroom door, towel folded over his arm, eyes narrowed with that which came just before concern. "Hey, you. Are you feeling alright?"

She turned slowly, and when she met his gaze her countenance reflected the easy warmth befitting an expectant mother.

"I'm just exquisite."

"Hell, Beck, that's the truth."

"Language, Rex."

Slowly, she began to roll her hair in curlers, as was the fashion now in Core society. Sweet Ye su, she wanted a drink. Instead she stepped into a simple silver gown—the new dress was banished to the back of her closet—and added a strand of black pearls and a spray of perfume. She'd send the wave this evening. Claudia and Esmerelda served on some of the same committees; a wave originating from the Cabot house would arouse few suspicions on the Cortex log. All waves sent from her own address must henceforth be strictly censored. One wrong word and…stop.

Don't think about it now. Finish dressing. Put on your face. Smile for Rex, for nosy Core wives and the men who decided. For such a progressive, technologically-advanced society, the world her husband inhabited was still largely a men's one. Women bore the babies and men stole the embryos.

Easy, Becca. Perhaps all this was product of a wild and undisciplined imagination. Perhaps Rex and Matty brought up that name—Malcom Reynolds, Malcom Reynolds—in some other context. She knew only two details regarding the man who may have supplied half the genetic material for the prizes she carried inside her. First, that he was the reputed rebel behind the Miranda broadcast. Second, that he was the unknowing illegitimate stepson of her friend, Esmerelda Fitzgerald. The former was hardly privileged information, the latter hardly public. Somehow, when combined, they made a complete picture. She'd have relinquished all her worldly possessions to avoid seeing that image.

---

They stayed long enough for the ladies—save Zoe at her own insistence and River at Simon's—to sample Sweet Leaf Spa's pain-free Brazilian bikini wax. If the grumbling to follow was any indicator, the experience didn't quite live up to its promise.

"Hey." Mal nudged Inara when the pair was alone in her bunk. "Can I see?" She gave him a look, which said in no uncertain terms that he could not.

Kaylee was more direct.

"Nuh uh. Don't touch me till tomorrow at least," she told her husband when his fingers encroached upon forbidden territory under the dinner table. Red-faced, Simon returned his hand to his lap.

"Christ on a crucifix, you girls been moanin' the whole damn day." Jayne reclined against the back of his chair, stacking his boots on the table top. "Hell, couldn't o' hurt that bad."

Mal lowered his voice, leaned conspiratorially over the table.

"You know you should stop him—"

"And yet part of you -really- wants to see what happens?" Simon smiled.

The girls had half-convinced the merc to have his back done before Mal somewhat reluctantly intervened. In truth, he'd used up all Mayella's spa credits on the ladies, and the cost of waxing Jayne's back could prove astronomical.

"You're no fun," Kaylee complained.

"Now is that any way to talk? Specially when I done invited Monty over tonight…." He went to the stove to refill his coffee mug.

"Monty?" She brightened. "Aw, we love Monty."

"May an' a couple others as well."

"We're having company?" Inara strolled up beside him, her gaze one of amusement.

"Just a small gatherin' of sorts."

"Hosted by you…?"

"Didn't I say as much?"

"You. Malcom Reynolds?" Her smile was skeptical, her eyes indulgent.

"That name givin' you trouble? Seemed to recall it well enough last night. In fact, I specifically remember you shoutin' it out a time or two whilst I was—"

"You're incorrigible." But she laughed, let him kiss her against the counter.

---

Mayn't have been a fancy shindig, but there was engine wine and friends and a few good laughs, all of which had been in short supply of late.

"Malcom! Send that purty girl to me."

Mal glanced sideways. Blinking, Inara looked up from her conversation with Kaylee.

"Well, Monty, she don't much like when I send her."

"Hell, Mal, you done married my lady." He boomed out a laugh, tugging at his newly restored whiskers. "I'm at least owed a dance with yours."

"It's alright." Inara smiled. "Let's refill our glasses, Monty. Perhaps then you'll entertain me with wicked tales from Mal's youth."

Mal shrugged, gave her backside a gentle slap.

"Keep your hands where I can see 'em, Monty." He smirked when Inara rolled her eyes. Moments later he heard the light sound of her laughter, wondered just what in the name of decency Monty was tellin' her. Ai ya, she was learnin' an awful lot this trip. First May, now Monty. Together those two could write the book of Malcom. Hundreds o' pages and not a one of 'em pretty.

Slipping between the handful of folk occupyin' his cargo bay, Mal plucked Raven out from her mama's arms, motioned Zoe off with a slight nod.

He strolled about, bouncing the chick on his hip. Crew seemed to be havin' a good time, 'cept of course for the albatross who steadfastly declined to attend through all of Simon's encouraging, Kaylee's lamenting. Now that he thought on it, Jayne wasn't here neither. Prolly tryin' his luck with one o' May's pretty spa maids. Speakin o' May, now was as good a time as any to grill her on that Kane fella. What kinda man hired a cargo ship captained by a well-known smuggler—and at a damn fair price to boot—for transporting a flock o' sea birds? He racked his brain but best he could figure, penguin wasn't term for some hot new hallucinogen. So, birds. Huh.

Maybehaps he was just feeling dubious these days. Past year hadn't exactly been an exercise in trust. Still, Amos appeared in every way the real deal, coming highly recommended by them Mal considered friends. Hell, not everyone was a crook. Some folk was just on-the-level creepy. An old man with a few too many questions weren't good reason for turning down gainful works.

He'd leave Bellerophon the following morning with his suspicions mainly soothed and his cargo holds stocked high with frozen fish.

---

She was having the warm, fuzzy sort of dream. Cap'n decided they was done with this life of crime, and the whole crew moved in with Simon and River's parents in Capital City. (This weren't a big deal, seein' as the Dream Tams had a mansion with at least a dozen bedrooms and twice as many baths.) Dream Gabriel and Regan was nicer too. Simon's mama complimented her skill with fixin' stuff 'round the house and admired her fine taste in eveningwear. Mr. Tam helped the cap'n get hisself established in the Core-Businessman business, and Simon went back to bein' a brilliant surgeon at the hospital. Inara opened up her own dance studio and, in her spare time, sexed the cap'n and went lingerie shopping with Kaylee. River helped out at the dance studio when she weren't writin' books about geniusy stuff and dated nice boys and smiled and was mostly normal. In an unforeseen twist, Zoe married Gideon, whose dream self was a whole bunch less mysterious and didn't sell them all down the river no more. Raven got big, and all her aunts and uncles loved her to death and spoiled her rotten, though somehow she stayed sweet and reminded them all of her daddy. Jayne—well, Jayne still killed folk for hire, but mostly life was shiny. They had real food to eat, and hardly anyone got bullet wounds to his belly. They was all just setting down to a game of Charades—hilarity ensued as the cap'n acted out 'Companion'—when she heard shouting. That weren't right. Nobody shouted in her Dream 'Verse.

Pouting, Kaylee rolled over, squinted open an eye. Beside her , Simon slept face-down in the pillow. He didn't stir as another burst of profanity pierced the walls o' their bunk. Kaylee relaxed a little and rubbed at her eyes. Was just the cap'n yellin' 'bout somethin' out in the bay. She burrowed deeper under the blankets and snuggled into Simon, wrapping her arms around his sleep-warmed torso. Shifting on to his side, he tugged her against his chest, murmuring incoherently into her hair. In Kaylee's Dream 'Verse, now was about when the butler would be comin' in with warm buttered rolls and strawberry jam. Instead another stream of Chinese curse words exploded from the hall.

"Ye su ta ma de…is that a pool? Is that a gorramn swimming pool? You're putting a pool in my ruttin' cargo bay? Ai ya…."

Sighing, Kaylee pressed a kiss to her husband's hair and slipped out of bed. Shivering, she tugged one of Simon's sweaters over her head, padded barefoot down the hall.

" 'Smatter, Cap'n?" she asked around a yawn. "Oh, God!"

She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter but was seconds too late. Almost shaking in her frenzy to squelch the giggles, she watched wide-eyed as three pens o' penguins was unloaded onto the floor of Serenity's cargo bay. They stumbled out from their crates like drunk wedding guests, dipping and swayin' in their neat little tuxes. Kaylee couldn't help it; she grinned.

Mal graced her with a death glare before stomping across the room.

"What is that, Monty? What the hell is that?"

"Well, they gotta have toys, Mal..."

From the opposite wall, Inara was watching the scene with a mixture of anxiety and amusement. She used one hand to hold the front of her robe closed, the other to balance against a stack of crates. When she saw Kaylee, she gave a small wave and beckoned her closer.

"G'mornin'." Kaylee leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms.

"I think you're mistaken, sweetie. Good mornings involve cuddling and coffee."

"Mm, got a point." Kaylee yawned again. "That vein in his head's gonna pop."

"That doesn't sound very attractive."

"Nope. Wanna hear 'bout my dream, Nara?"

"Yes."

They settled back to watch the captain load his cargo.

---

Son of a ho zui, if those birds weren't the topic of every dinner dialogue since their induction as crew:

"Hey, Cap'n? What's their purpose?"

"Penguins? Oh, 'spect they're meant to squawk about and be useless."

"Rather like Jayne," Simon reflected.

Mouth full of soup, Jayne just flipped him off.

"I mean to say, what's the buyer want 'em for?" Kaylee pressed.

"Honestly, Lil' Kaylee, I didn't ask."

"Well ain't that sorta careless, Cap'n? Not checkin' into the dest. o' your own cargo?"

"They're penguins, not nuclear warheads, Kaylee."

"Ain't we Persephone-bound, Mal?"

"I hope to hell we are, Jayne, seein' as that's where the cargo's headed."

"Eavesdown folk got all manner o' strange tastes."

Kaylee gasped. Simon and Inara looked visibly paler. Zoe kept right on spooning her soup, not sparing any of the lot a glance.

"Folk gonna cook Donna and Brandon?" Kaylee pushed aside her bowl. "I feel all squicky inside."

"It's okay, sweetheart." Simon patted her back soothingly. "I can't believe you agreed to this, Captain."

Mal looked up, amazed at the turn this conversation had took in a few short seconds.

"I didn't agree to nothin'--"

"Mal, I don't wanna turn over the cargo. Hell, I like the penguins."

"Jayne." Mal shook his head. "All the men I've had you take out, you ain't but batted an eyelash. Not one whisper o' protest for -men-. And here you are throwin' a hissy fit over some gorramn waddlin' birds."

"After all this time, they seem sorta like family. You wouldn't feed your family to the Eavesdown vendors, would you, Cap'n?"

"I might," he said, eyes narrowed. "And all this time?--Kaylee, ruttin' bird been in the bay not two weeks!"

"They do kinda cheer this place up," Gideon offered.

Mal's glare was painfully blatant: you don't speak.

"It does seem rather cruel, Mal," Inara murmured, trying for diplomacy.

"Oh, not you too. Okay, crazy folk what was my crew? Listen up: I don't know what's to become of our flipper-footed friends. Got no notion whether we're shippin' 'em to be dinner or eccentric pets or a gorramn penguin army. In earnest, I didn't ask. Mostly 'cuz I don't much care. So you can all gripe and whine till judgment day, but we are handin' over this flock to the good folk what hired us, dong ma? Ai ya, don't recall hearin' nearly this fuss over the cows. You think they was meant as pets? Wodema..."

---

She looked better. Not a hundred percent, but then she'd never been that, least not when he'd known her. One thing to be said for the doc: he knew his stuff. The blue-black moons faded from under her eyes, leaving only a vague yellow pallor in their wake. Her nose shrank back to girl-size and the angry red cuts paled to pink. Thanks to that progressive Alliance science, her limbs would mend faster than was typical. Discounting the emotional torture, she was almost back to normal.

Physically, the albatross was healing. Psychologically speaking…well, Mal didn't, as a rule, speak psychologically. He tended to get twitchy 'bout that which wasn't tangible, what couldn't be stolen or killed or caressed. Over the years, he'd gleaned enough about psychotherapy and the like to realize he hadn't the faintest notion what was goin' on behind River Tam's pretty brown eyes. She was a mystery, sure as Kaylee's indefatigable cheeriness, the doctor's brains, Shepherd Book's…Hell, even River hadn't as many mysteries in her as the gorramn preacher. Though some days it seemed like she too had every intention o' takin' hers to the grave.

She was watching the penguins at…whatever the hell it was penguins did. Play? Birds sure as hell weren't workin'. He was the one stuck moppin' up after 'em, changin' the water in their swimming pools, filling their bellies with vaccu-sealed frozen fish. The others refused to help as some sorta political protest, leavin' Mal to handle penguin care wholly on his lonesome.

"Would hurt too much, Cap'n," Kaylee sniffled. "Knowing what was meant for 'em..."

Twice a day he bundled up in his coat and gloves to combat the arctic climate setting in the bay. As a group, the penguin community seemed to sense his aversion. Mostly they just waddled around ignoring him, rockin' and swayin' like Jayne after a bender. Made a powerful fuss too, braying and cackling at one another. They seemed particularly fond o' stagin' these displays in the middle o' the night.

Last night, he'd been naïve enough to grumble over the noise at dinner. The others just glared, or gazed pointedly at something elsewhere. Inara was polite enough to keep her eyes on her plate. Kaylee, who'd done most of the naming and bracelet coding in the birds' early days, seemed to be taking things a bit more personal. When he requested that she pass the bread, she muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'callous bastard.' He pretended not to hear. Hell, wasn't his fault if some Eavesdown natives intended to turn the poor birds into brunch. Life was three sorts of sumbitch; why should penguins get a free ride? Point of fact, they didn't. Transporting 'em paid good coin, coin Serenity needed to keep running. And Malcom Reynolds had every intention of running.

"No external genitalia."

Mal blinked, having forgotten River's presence for a few seconds.

"Shuh muh?"

"The penguins."

She looked bored, but then she always looked bored when his utter stupidity required additional explanation on her part. Girl likely spent a good deal of time bored outta her skull.

"Chromosomal testing is necessary to determine a penguin's sex," she continued.

"Well, see, hadn't really planned on mating 'em."

"Already past breeding season. Look." She pointed to a miniature version of the others, covered in a soft gray down. "When separated, the mother penguin can distinguish her chick by voice and appearance."

"Is that so? Think Zoe could find her little chick in a passel?"

"High mortality rate. Forty to eighty percent. Brenda lost her chick."

Mal followed her line of sight to the stout one (hell, they were all sorta stout) wearing a pale blue ankle bracelet. He was starting to get that sinking sensation, the twisting in the gut what warned of trouble brewing.

"Can't she, uh, hatch another?"

"She's grieving. Half-crazed. Needs to fill the empty space."

"How's a penguin gonna manage that?" he asked quietly. Ye su knew human people couldn't even…

"Tried to steal a substitute."

"She's…penguin-napping?"

"Last night. Kelly left her chick alone. Pink bracelet," she added before he could ask. "Went to get fish. Brenda snatched Kelly's chick right outta the nest."

"But it's back now. Kelly—" Ai ya, he was startin' to call the rats by name. "She's got her own chick back, right?"

"Yes. Other mothers got mad. Helped Kelly steal back her chick, defend her nest."

"Huh." He wondered whether she'd been expecting more in the way of response. She'd have to deal; he couldn't come up with anything more profound.

"They're brave. No fears. Come right up to my hand and eat the fish from my fingers."

Mal rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. Ai ya, it was starting to throb.

"I…River--"

"Telling her tonight?" River looked up, bright-eyed suddenly. "Took you long enough."

"Not rightly sure what you're…." He trailed off, too tired to pretend. "Why don't you head on to bed now, darlin'? Ai ya, it's a gorram freezer in here. Ain't you cold, Albatross?" Weren't it a little late for psychoanalyzing the aged mariner?

"Not tired…I'm studying the penguins."

"Well...that's shiny, then." He gave her good shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You just stay up and study long as you like."

"Penguins often mate for life. Cooperate in raising chicks…."

He was half-glad for the throbbing behind his eyelids now. He could scarcely hear her over the dull roar of the headache. He climbed the stairs slowly, leaving her to her ramblings.

---

He knocked at her door.

"Come in. Hey, you." She smiled warmly.

It was the way her and Kaylee had o' greetin' each another. Easy affection and genuine pleasure at the other's company.

"Inara, there's somethin' I been wantin' to say."

Her expression altered to one of worry.

"Is this about the penguins?"

Mal rolled his eyes, determined not to lose it. He was tryin' for a moment here.

"Ain't about the penguins," he assured.

She released a breath, shrugged a single shoulder and smiled.

"I understand you took them on as cargo. It's just...you don't really think they're intended for someone's supper, Mal?"

"I'll tell you one thing: not never carryin' puppies. Holy Hell, what a fuss." He fisted his fingers through his hair, sat beside her on the bed. "Inara."

"Hmm?"

"Gimme your hands a sec. Somethin' I been meanin' to tell ya. Been meanin' for awhile now, just that the timing was never right."

"Is something wrong, Mal?"

"No." He wet his lips, took a breath.

"You look awfully pale." She slipped her fingers free, pressed the back of her hand to his temple. "Mm, you don't feel warm."

"Can you just...be quiet a second?"

"I'm sorry." She smiled encouragingly. "You wanted to say something?"

"I did. I mean, I do. Ai ya, 'spect it'd ruin the moment if I asked you to face the wall."

"Shuh muh?"

"Nothin'. C'mere a minute; sit with me."

He patted his thigh, assuming that she'd slide into his lap all ladylike. Instead, she straddled his hips, the fabric of her dress fluting out to allow her lower body unhindered contact with the crotch of his trousers. He could feel himself stir beneath her.

She skimmed a finger over his lips.

"You were saying, Captain?"

In earnest, he could scarcely recall, what with her breasts pressed firm to the front of his chest that way. He reached up to tuck a silken black curl behind her ear, let his hand linger on the side of her face. With his thumb, he smoothed her cheekbone. Tilting her face, he met her eyes. Her expression was soft and warm and just slightly baffled.

"Had a whole speech prepared and now it's seepin' out my ears. Started off with how I wanted to say this today, just an ordinary day, one when nobody was bleedin' or dyin' or gettin' hisself electrocuted by crazy little men with grudges. I didn't want you thinkin' it was said outta urgency...or fear. Ain't a whim or a moment's passion, though there's surely that. Wode ma, there's passion. But those times, intimate ones, ain't the only ones if that makes a bit o' sense. See, there's others, a 'verseful. Just to see you smile at somethin', play with Kaylee, cook dinner. You wearin' one o' my raggedy tee shirts but with diamonds in your ears and sapphires at your throat. Hell, even watchin' you laugh at those gorramn penguins I all but clench up inside...but the very best, Nara, the shiniest bit, is when I can be the one makes you smile. And after all those times I made you cry...hey, now. Don't."

Tears pearled at the corners of her eyes. He raised a hand to brush them away, changed his mind and used his lips.

"I love you. Don't worry 'bout sayin' it back if--"

"I love you, Mal." She cupped his cheek, kissing his temple, his cheek, the underside of his jaw and then his mouth. "I love how you adore Zoe's daughter when you think no one's watching. I love that you're protective with Kaylee and River, that you care so much about every member of this crew but would never admit it. I love how you kiss me and touch me and the way we make love. I love how you're cuddly the next morning. I love how you pretend not to like the penguins." Here her voice broke; she struggled to regain control. "I love that you call me cupcake...and kitten and a thousand other obnoxious epithets. I even love those idiotic suspenders. Mal."

She touched the smooth planes of his face.

"I never thought I'd know love, Mal. Before you, I never thought..."

"Guess that's a fair trade then." He smoothed his hands over her hair, drying her cheeks with his thumbs. " 'Cuz before you I felt like one dead."

She kissed him slowly, sinking into the softness of his lips, feeling the bite of teeth, the tickling caress of his tongue. She opened her mouth, allowing him access.

"I want you this instant." She laughed, though her tone was still teary. "God help anyone who interrupts."

"Well, see that's why I got you the gun." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Anyone comes down, you just go ahead an' shoot 'em."

She smiled, started unbuttoning his shirt at the collar. Hastily, she tugged down his suspenders, spread the halves of his shirt to reveal hard, sculpted flesh. She lowered her mouth to his chest while he dug through her hair, pulling out pins.

She kissed up and down his belly, flicking her tongue over hard pink nipples, dipping it down into the swirl of his naval. With her lips, she encircled the scar on his lower abdomen, let her mind travel back to a morning of mist and chivalry. She inhaled the scent of his soap, simple and masculine and Mal.

With an increasing urgency, he pushed her down into the bed cushions, sliding astride her. Clumsily--ai ya, his hands were shaking--he wrenched open her robe, put his mouth on her through the rich lace of her lingerie. He suckled her nipple till his patience waned, reached behind her neck to unclasp the buttons of her bodice. He peeled the fabric to her waist before molding her breasts to his palms. She made a little sound like a gasp, sighed as his thumbs played over the hardened nipples, slid down to caress the smooth undersides. He lowered his face to her skin, drinking in the heady scent of lilacs and arousal, using his mouth to make her writhe.

Overwhelming. She couldn't fashion a better term. His fingers were greedy in their exploration, intent on summoning every ounce of pleasure, dragging it from new spots like the curve of her elbow, the inside of her wrist. Pulling him down, she savored the feel of his firm chest against the softness of her breasts. He made love to her mouth while her fingers worked his belt buckle.

Those bitches who measured the fates seemed finally to have found a fair ruler. Everything good in the 'verse he had wrapped up in his arms. Under her robe, she wore boy shorts in an ivory lace that cut high on her thighs. He dragged them down to her knees while she fought off his trousers.

He wanted to kiss his way up her legs and keep going, make her wet with his mouth, feel her shudder at his tongue's invasion and use his lips to suck at her sweetness. But she was faster, climbing on top to nibble his jaw, his collarbone, down and around his ribcage. She put her mouth on him through his undershorts, teasing till he was hard--well, harder--and aching for her with a fierceness he couldn't name. Meeting his eyes with a soft desire that touched him to the core, she freed him from his shorts, brushing her lips and tongue over bare skin. He groaned long and low.

"Inara. Tyen shiao duh."

She stroked with her fingers, pressing light, airy kisses to the insides of his thighs. Then she took him in her mouth, and he could only clutch at her hair. Oh, but God, she was sweet.

She lifted her head from his lap, caught the few pearly drops of his moisture on her finger. She traced her own lips so they were wet with him. The punch of lust hit him straight in the belly, knocking out his air supply. When he could breathe again, he grabbed her by the arms, yanking her up to his face. He kissed her furiously, hard enough to bruise. Nowhere near sated, he flipped her on her back. Burying his face in her neck, he cupped her with his palm.

"Rock against my hand," he murmured near her ear.

He let her ride till his fingers were slippery with her desire. Holding her gaze, he brought himself to her entrance, played the head of him over the nerve bundle there.

"Mal." He'd caught her off guard; this new pleasure left her wrecked, helpless. She and Mal, together like this, naked in every way that counted, clutching each other in the lamplight. She grasped at his hips, her body throbbing for him.

He swelled with the wanting of her. Relentless, he persisted until she was near thrashing, so close she fairly vibrated beneath him.

He pushed inside with a long, smooth stroke and felt her shatter around him.

"I love you." He brushed her lips and thrust in again, holding her damp, quivering form to his chest. "Tired o' hearin' it yet?"

"Not unless you're tired of saying it." Her words were breathy, breathless.

"Not tired, nope. Feelin' all manner o' energetic, in fact."

"Mm, I hope I can keep up."

He felt her stretch around him, languorous as a cat, playful as a kitten. With her heels, she motioned him deeper.

"I love you." He nuzzled into her neck. "Did I mention?"

"Sounds vaguely familiar. Maybe you should tell me again."

---

He watched her watching him, wide-eyed and silent and spooky as a specter.

"You really oughta be somewhere that's elsewhere."

She managed to sound amused without smiling.

"No where else to be."

He ignored her, got back to his cleaning.

"Jayne?"

"Gorrammit, you see all these guns? Think now's a wise time to be ridin' me?"

She leaned across the table, stretching her arms toward him.

"Am I desirable?"

Oh, mother of a son of a...

"Why you gotta ask?" He made his eyes icy. "Can't you already see the answer, witch?

Now she smiled, clearly uninsulted.

"Wanna hear you say it."

"And what if I did?" With speed enough to make her start, he grabbed her good wrist, encircled the slender bone in his big hand. "You don't really want down that road."

He meant to sound menacing. He knew it came off desperate.

"Why me, girl? Don't you know I'm no good?"

She lay her cheek on the table, stared straight into the mouth of a pistol.

"You're the one can make me feel, Jayne Cobb."

Stricken, he went back to his weapons.

---


	20. Chapter 20

---

Slick limbs and wet hair. Sluggishness and the smell of sex. He tugged her perspiration-drenched body atop his own, pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She laid her cheek to his chest, murmuring into the skin above his heart so the words tickled.

"I love you."

He stroked her hair.

"I love you," he whispered back. But she might already have been sleeping.

---

He found her in the bay; little witch had got into into his weights.

Was just over a week since big brother cut the cast off her leg, removed the enhancers. Lil' Kaylee made it somethin' of a celebration, bakin' a cake with real-sugar frosting and coverin' Crazy Girl's face with congratulatory kisses. When Jayne'd seen what she done, he'd got a great urge to shake her. What exactly we celebratin', Kaylee? Just what here merits engine wine and your shiny smile? Was a gorram farce to be truthsome. Kinda like the arm cast she'd wear awhile longer. Rest o' the crew done decorated the plaster with dumb jokes and picture-drawings, autographin' her as though it meant somethin', changed somethin'. Hell, even Mal printed 'Captain' in big, black letters, sketchin' some manner o' bird below.

Jayne hadn't wrote a damn thing. What would it matter? Didn't, to be plain.

Squatting, he'd watched through the window as the doc cut loose her leg. It emerged from out the plaster, a fine sprinkling of dark hairs in the spots the cast had covered. Jayne stared at the pale limb, all white and scaly, and felt a merciless stab of lust hit his nethers. From her perch atop the exam table, River looked down on herself and burst into tears.

"River?" Clueless, the doc started right in feelin' up her leg for out-sticking bones or some such. For all his smarts, boy just didn't get it. Didn't get that what was hurtin' her weren't medical.

Nara seemed to understand. In a way, she always understood folk. Must come from sexin' so many of 'em.

"It's alright, Simon." Inara smiled in that way she had of at once getting her way and reassuring you it was all for the better. "I think River might appreciate a warm bath and a little girl-talk before we all enjoy Kaylee's delicious cake. Am I right, sweetheart?"

"Hot water. Talk about men. I'm fine, Simon."

Girl sounded as death regurgitated and made to walk upright amongst the living. She was surely pale as the dead, flesh made whiter 'gainst the dark of her hair. For a long, sweaty second Jayne imagined all that ivory skin flushing red with heat, going warm and wet under his hands' ministrations. He met her eyes through the glass and felt a pink flush creep over his own neck.

Now she was pumping her good arm in bicep curls while the casted one hung limp at her side. Sweat had her hair curling, wispy little bits that fell free from her pony tail to lick at her face. The effort of the workout had her skin glowing, shiny pink under the cargo bay flourescents.

"Morning." She smiled. "You dreamed about her last night. Haven't in a long time. Kept me up." Little witch had the gall to sound accusing.

"Don't recall sayin' you could use those. Just cuz some folk on this boat treat you like shiny glass don't mean you're special. Not nothin' new, just a female same as any other. Me, I ain't got no burnin' desire to see you smile."

"But I do make you burn."

Her smile paled to a tight white line. The disappointment he felt was a shock, quick as a knife blade betwixt his ribs and equally as sharp.

"Sorry. Forget sometimes. Just because I can...it's not to say I should. Forget not everyone can see...sorry, Jayne. Memories are possessions; Vera belongs to you."

For long seconds they watched each other in silence. Finally he shrugged, switched the weight in her hand for another.

"This is better. Builds up the endurance gradual-like. Vera weren't her." He hesitated, meeting a pair of eyes that looked of a sudden a whole hell of a lot older than nineteen. "Jo...well, Jo was weak. Ain't the sort a man calls his weapon for. Jo was her though. Vera was the one killed her."

"Captain Malcom dreams in red and black, Kaylee's have polka dots. All Jayne's dreams are gray."

"Gray's a good color. Steel and guns is gray."

"What was she like? One Vera killed..."

"Not like you. Softer. Harmless. Kinda like Kaylee. Couldn't hurt no one, matter how mad they got her."

"Was she pretty?"

"Not especial-like. Kinda plain. Sweet as grape soda."

"You loved her."

"Much as I was able. Didn't never tell her though. People after...said she musta knowed. Load a go suh if I ever heard one. How can folk know nothin' lest you tell 'em? Not like she was psychic...not like you..."

She studied him like some object of fascination, only blinking when she had to.

"Would it make us happy?" she asked at last. Her eyes got little-girl again. Broken little crazy girl, begging with her eyes.

"For a lil' while. Before and during. After if we was lucky."

"Would it feel good? During..."

He could hardly croak.

"Yeah. Yeah, would feel good."

"And after...would you hold me, Jayne? The way Simon holds Kaylee and the captain holds Inara?"

"Guess I would. If'n you wanted it."

"Thanks, Jayne. Thanks for your weights."

"Right. Sure."

He got out 'fore he lost his chance.

---

Mal strode purposely up to the bridge. He weren't the least bit eager to send this wave and thus wanted it done with soon as possible. So he'd just pour a cup o' joe for hisself first, maybehaps trim up his bunk some. Really the icebox was in need of a good scrubbing….

In the kitchen, Kaylee poured water into clear plastic cups.

"There y'are, Cap'n!" She sounded breathless, red-faced and glowy, hair sticking to her skin. "Why ain't you down there with us?"

"What game you playin', Lil' Kaylee?" He stole one of her neatly-filled glasses, gulped down the water.

"Touch football. Boys 'gainst the girls, so Zoe, Nara an' me versus Simon an' Jayne."

"Inara's playin' football?"

"Yup." Kaylee sounded mighty proud with herself.

"Inara Serra? Dark-haired creature 'bout yay high?" He held his palm level with Kaylee's head. "Wait a minute, never mind Nara. Simon's playin' football? Stuffy-shirt doctor about--" He hesitated, uncertain. "Well, now, how big is the doc?" he mused.

"Oh…plenty big." Kaylee smirked, nudged her elbow into Mal's ribs as he groaned. "Let's see, now, spect he's about..." She held up her hands as though trying to estimate.

"Stop! As your captain, I am ordering you to stop that. Stop talking and...and put your hands in your pockets!"

"Come on down to the bay, Cap'n." Kaylee beamed up at him with her most cheersome smile. "'Member how we'd all of us play Hoop Ball? Back before…?"

"I remember. Got captainy things though." He tossed a light punch at her shoulder. "Go have fun, Lil' Kaylee."

Alone, he wandered up to the bridge, took a seat in Wash's chair. Much as he appreciated the diversion, he was more than a mite relieved to see her go. It guilted on him too much, havin' that girl's shiny smile in sight with what he was about to do. Man he meant to wave was a murderer—weren't no two ways about it. He ended the Shepherd as surely as if he'd run him through with that hoe-tze duh pee-goo sword. Slaughtered the whole of Haven, women and children included. Given proper provocation, he'd have sacrificed Inara, too, all for the purpose of getting to a little girl could slay the monsters. Wash…well, he woulda liked to hold the man liable for Wash as well. But that meant relinquishing his own culpability. Mal wasn't quite ready to give up on that account.

In the silence of the cockpit, he leaned back against the headrest, dug a hand into the pocket of his trousers. The scrap of parchment rested curled where he'd crammed it, hidden in the back of his wallet betwixt his Browncoat Indent. and an old capture of a dead woman was once his mother.

This felt wrong a thousand times over. Solicitin' help from him that murdered family. Riskin' the lives of his livin' crew to locate what could be a figment.

"I'm asking you to take this, Captain. Should you wish to contact me, this may prove your only means."

It wasn't a good day, that one. With most of his crew laid up, he spent it planning three funerals on his lonesome

"I don't see a shiny reunion flick in our future."

"Captain Reynolds…I have neither past nor future."

"I stumble upon you in a lonely alley somewhere, you'll find your present comin' to a fast close."

"I won't come to you, Captain. I give you my word, I won't come to you."

Somewhere between burying the dead and resurrecting his ship, Mal folded the code in his wallet and forgot it. Now, he stuck the paper to the console, typed the number into the Cortex 'fore he could change his mind.

The message was sent. He wondered whether the hwoon dan was alive to answer.

---

He was rather absorbed with her belly. Amused, she watched him kiss and nibble, drawing his mouth along the line of her hips. He dipped his tongue down into her belly button, suckling the warm flesh along with the jewelry she wore there. He shifted lower, kissing along the waistband of her pants. His hands lingered on the drawstring, unknotting the bow, but making no move to lower the linen. He seemed content just to touch for now. She played her fingers through his hair, content to let him. He hadn't shaved in a few days, and the stubble on his cheeks stung pleasantly against the skin.

"My hurtin' you?" he asked when he realized, bringing a hand up to rub at his jaw.

She smiled.

"I think we're long past that, Mal.

"Yeah?"

She nodded, tugged him up by the suspenders. Lightly, she brushed his lips.

"You know, when we first...had intimacies. Well, I was a little...I don't wanna say nervy, 'cuz it weren't that."

"Of course not." She tried to kiss him again, rolled her eyes when he once more frustrated her aims.

"Maybehaps anxious. Just a mite."

"I was scared too, Mal."

"I didn't say scared, Nara."

"Sorry." She kissed the tip of his nose. "Anxious, was it?"

"Now see here I am tryin' to have a serious discussion...and there you go with the cracking wise."

"My apologies." She bit her lip to hide a smile. "So we're discussing something?" "No, no. Forget it. Can just have sex if you'd rather." He made a move to unbutton his trousers.

She smiled now, unable to help herself.

"If you insist. Take me, Malcom Reynolds." She tossed a playful hand over her eyes.

"Ai ya, if you ain't a brat." He pulled her hand away, pressed kisses over her eyelids.

"I'm teasing, Mal." She nuzzled her lips over his neck, pleased by the way his breathing quickened. "Unless the matter you wish to discuss is liable to cause a fight. In which case I'd prefer we have sex first."

"Don't reckon it'll incite a riot...though I do tend to excel in infuriating you."

"Mmm, not just me," she teased.

"Whoa-ho. No respect for your elders." He fell back on his side, tugging her against him. One hand slid down her back to slap gently at her butt. "What you need's a good bit o' discipline."

She snuggled against the warmth of his chest, pressed her face into the soft fabric of his undershirt.

"Spanking? How delightfully deviant. You never mentioned these eccentric sexual inclinations previously." She titled her chin up, anticipating his blush. Ta ma de, he was cute when he blushed. "You've been holding out on me, Captain."

"You, uh..." He was turning red and fast; dammit. "You ever...I mean, that a popular--inclination--in your old line o' work?"

She just smiled wickedly.

He shook his head.

"Never mind." He kissed the top of her head before moving to her lips. "Brat."

---

Raven whined, big brown eyes solemn as she stared around the empty cargo bay. Zoe bounced the squirming eight-month old on her hip.

"Birds are gone, Rave. Went bye-bye on 'Sephone."

"Baby talk from our stalwart first mate?"

Zoe turned to find Simon smiling over a mug of tea.

"Doctor." She inclined her head in greeting. "I'd leave the cutesy speak to Wash if he were here. Seein' as he ain't...well..."

"I think you talk one-year old very well." Simon held out his arms hesitantly. "May I?"

Amused, Zoe passed her daughter to the doc. He held the child, albeit awkwardly, against his chest.

"Mm, she smells nice."

"Better than the penguins," Zoe agreed.

"I wonder if the captain didn't know all along they were going to a zoo. Sometimes I think he takes pleasure in antagonizing people."

Zoe smirked.

"Only sometimes?"

"You're doing a great job with her, Zoe. I'm not very good with children."

"Was a time you weren't much good with womenfolk either." She started down the hall, giving him little choice but to follow with the baby. "But you learned. And now look at you, Doctor."

"Kaylee's good for me."

"Imagine you're good for eachother."

"Zoe, wait." The baby was wriggling against his chest. Automatically, Simon lifted her up to blow bubbles against her belly. She laughed wildly and kicked her little legs.

"Somethin' you wanted to say, Doctor?"

"What's Mal going to do?"

"What's the captain gonna do 'bout what?"

"You know what, Zoe."

"Baby was made from him and River?" At Simon's nod, she just shook her head. "Ain't certain, Doctor. Captain's been through hell and back, but this...this got him tore up plenty."

"For all Mal's faults, he's fiercely protective when it comes to family."

"Captain does his best to protect those he considers his."

"And does that include a child conceived against his will? Against my sister's?"

"It includes that child if he conjures it does."

"Your mother seem to have a knack for languages, Raven. She's as adept at cryptic as she is at baby talk."

"And the captain's skilled in keeping private that which he don't want known." Except when it came to Inara, she mused. Man never could keep his feelings for her secret.

"I don't know what to do here, Zoe."

Raven had her head on his shoulder now. She was a good baby, unfussy with bein' held by her many aunts and uncles. Sometimes it miffed Zoe just a bit how easily she seemed to take to strangers. But then that was just a part of what made Raven her father's daughter.

"Seems you're doin' just fine, Doctor."

"I've never been comfortable with babies, even my own sister. Of course, River had a nurse in the beginning: Mrs. Wu. She took care of me as well. You see, my parents are very busy people. They didn't have the time to...at any rate, Raven's the first baby with whom I spent a significant time. I love my sister very much, Zoe."

"Don't think anyone's ever questioned that fact."

"I gave up everything I knew to find her. And I'd do it again. All I want--all I've ever wanted--is to see her safe. And happy. If the captain tries to steal back her--their--child...she'll never be safe."

"And if he doesn't seek out that child?"

"She might be safe. They might leave her alone. And she might never be happy." The last he said quietly, a low whisper into the baby's hair.

"Seems like a lot of maybes, Doctor."

"And maybe I'm selfish."

She appraised him carefully, her expression serious.

"Ain't ever known you to be that."

"What if I said I believe we should leave BSB to its abominable creation, attempt to live out our lives with some semblance of peace? What would you say then?"

"I'd say that you're a man who's lost too much and prefers not to lose more. Not so unlike the captain really." Not so unlike herself.

"It's not real to me. The baby," he explained. "Not like River. Kaylee. Not like Raven."

"Reckon it'd be different if you saw your sister swelling with it. Always harder to believe in something you can't see."

Simon lowered his gaze, a smile playing over his lips.

"You know, for a second there I could almost hear Shepherd Book."

Zoe returned the smile, reached out a hand to tousle her daughter's hair

"Mind her for a bit?"

"Me?" His mouth formed a small o of surprise. "I, uh, well..."

"Thanks, Doctor."

Yawning, she headed up to the bridge. Her baby girl had her up half the night and a nap was sounding better by the minute. She'd kick off her boots and curl up in her man's chair. Sometimes, in the stillness, it felt like him holding her.

Anticipating the solace, she climbed the steps to the helm. And stopped short when she saw who was seated in her husband's spot.

"Zoe. Hi."

"Gideon. Didn't expect to find you on the bridge."

"Serenity can be very...full. It's quiet up here. Peaceful."

Zoe just nodded, hoping he'd take the hint. Hoping he'd go.

"On the ship River and I flew...the Champion...some nights I'd sleep at the helm, watch the stars. Tried the other night, but you all beat me to it."

Zoe raised a brow, then smiled.

"Movie night. Kind of a--"

"--tradition. I got that part." He gave a lopsided smile. "Traditions are nice."

"Could have joined us," Zoe said in a voice free from inflection.

"I did have friends once. The concept isn't entirely alien."

"These people could be friends to you. Be hard-pressed to find better."

"The others don't understand, Zoe. They found Serenity when they were lonely, when they needed her. They stumbled upon a home."

"Could be home to you too. If the captain don't decide you need killing, that is."

"I think I've got it figured finally."

Zoe hid a smile.

"Alright."

"It isn't as though they're cold...or cruel-natured. No one's treats me with malice." He hesitated, reconsidering. "No one but Jayne treats me with malice. Jayne and...sometimes Mal. I don't think Simon likes me much."

"You did help the government seize his sister."

"Yes. And I slept with you. Mal seems to carry grudges for people you go to bed with," he added mildly.

Zoe shrugged not the least bit embarrassed by the turn of phrase. Good sex was nothing to be ashamed of. Bad sex on the other hand...But with Gideon it had been good. Easy to feel and heal and lose yourself.

"Helped us snatch River and the captain back from the hospital, too. He's not like to forget that soon."

"I'm not unhappy here. I've been in places far worse."

"Ain't disagreeing on that point." She refused to let the tremor shake her spine. Place she'd found Gideon...that sort of horrible stuck with you, flashed before your eyes in lonely moments, late at night alone in your bed.

"You changed after Miranda. All of you changed. You lost two of your family and tightened the bonds with those left standing. If you look, really look close, you see the spaces between. But they're small, almost impenetrable. I can't slip through the cracks. Hell, Zoe, I'm not sure anyone could fit through those holes anymore."

She didn't say anything. She wasn't sure anyone could fit either.

"Zoe--"

The Cortex buzzed, indicating an incoming wave.

She raised a brow, motioned for him to answer.

"Firefly transport Serenity here, what's your Ident."

A man's face filled the screen. He was middle-aged with dark hair and skin. The whites of his eyes shone brightly as he met Gideon's gaze unflinching.

"Hello, Serenity. I seek an audience with Captain Malcom Reynolds.

Gideon was reminded of a prize horse made lame in a fall. There was death in this man's eyes, though whether it belonged to himself or others Gideon couldn't say.

"Uh, hold on. I'll go find him...the captain." Gideon pressed the hold button, turned to Zoe. "Do you want me to...or we could do that..."

Zoe had flipped the switch activating the vid screen in Mal's bunk. Gideon found himself watching what looked to be the beginnings of sci-fi porn. Blinking, he tore his eyes away from the image, affixing his gaze firmly to his lap.

"Sir."

Downstairs, Mal glanced up with a start.

"Ai ya! Zoe, I'm kinda--"

"--engaged. Can see that, Sir. Seems you got a gentleman caller. You comin' up the bridge or should I beam it down to you?"

---

Waving the man mayn't have been the wisest course. Now Zoe was sore at him, Inara was worried, and Mal still knew next to nothing.

"I was only privy to that information which enabled me to do my job, Captain. I was never one of the inner sanctum that decided fates."

"No." Mal felt his throat tighten. "No, but you decided a couple just the same."

"You think I don't see the blood. It stains my hands."

"Figure I ain't sorry for that."

"Captain...I don't have the answer you seek. If I could be of more use to you I would."

"All the favors in the 'verse...won't none of 'em make up for what you did to me and mine."

"All these months later, and you still take me for an idiot. I don't attempt to right myself in your eyes, Captain Reynolds. I no longer intend anything."

Mal looked away.

"I'm only askin' you 'cuz that girl's been to hell. She deserves to know why this was done to her." Even if he could do nothin' to fix it.

"As I said before, Captain, I do not know. The Blue Sun organization could want to replicate River Tam's genes for any number of reasons."

"And me?" His voice was rough, his gaze steady. "What in the nine hells would they be wantin' with me?"

"You were raised by your mother, weren't you? She raised you herself."

"Back on Shadow. What's this gotta do with--?"

"Do you know the man who was your father?"

"Didn't ever meet his acquaintance, no."

"Those that employed me to recover River Tam authorized your death should the situation necessitate it. But that was not the preferred outcome."

"Why? What's it matter to them whether I go on breathin'?"

"That I cannot say. The ancients seemed to believe a father's sins would be revisited upon his children. 'Those of you who are left will waste away in the lands of their enemies because of their sins; also because of their fathers' sins they will waste away.' Perhaps the same holds true for a father's labors in that they don't die with the man."

"I'm sorry, you quotin' the good book at me?"

"I simply offer you an alternative way of viewing the situation."

"Even if there were truth in that...man was my father is long dead."

"Captain Reynolds, I have no one. I am by choice and necessity wholly alone. Very few people live as I do."

"So you're tellin' me to look to his people?"

"I don't presume to tell you at all."

---

He stomped into the kitchen like he owned it, which in fact he did not that it made the least bit o' difference. Still, goin' on the offensive seemed the only option here. They was the lot of 'em set 'round the table. He decided to get right to his point.

"That weren't exactly kosher-like, Zoe," he said, folding his arms.

She gave a careless shrug.

"Had a wave for you, Sir. What would you have had me do?"

"Knock! Knock 'fore enterin' a man's bunk, whether it's you-corporeal or the electronic version, dong ma?"

"Sir, I seem to recall seein' your face more than my own husband's in that honeymoon was spent in the second shuttle."

"That's just 'cuz Wash's face spent the whole week an' a half betwixt your--"

"Mal." Rising, Inara laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Let's all just take a moment and--"

"You know, Sir, I wonder if the flow of blood to certain body parts isn't taking away from that was intended for your brain."

"And just what does that mean?" Mal demanded.

"Means you're bein' stupid with the gettin' sexed regular," Jayne offered helpfully.

"Now that ain't fair, Zoe." Kaylee shook her head. "Cap'n's said and done plenty o' stupid stuff 'fore he got to sexin' Inara."

The look both Mal and Zoe shot Kaylee had her cringing. She took a significant step back, bumping into Simon who was watching the scene in silence, Raven still held on one hip.

"I don't think I've really seen them argue before." Simon murmured near her ear. "They've disagreed, but..."

"Oh, they go off the horse now and again. It's good for 'em. Healthy-like." She grabbed and apple off the table and started munching.

"Sir, do you truly mean to invite this man into our lives? Will you really solicit help from him that murdered family?"

For a second, everyone went deathly silent.

"I ain't solicitin' nothin' from nobody, Zoe. Had a question that I had hoped a former Operative could answer."

"And did he, Sir? Answer it?"

"No. No, he didn't at that.

"That's it then." Kaylee looked hopeful. "It's done? Can all stop fighting?"

"Captain ain't gonna let this go." Zoe studied him through narrowed eyes. "Are you, Captain?"

"Is it really so bad?" Mal demanded. "My wantin' answers?"

"Only if you think those answers are like to change something. Way it is is the way it is, Sir. Don't you say that?"

She retrieved her daughter from Simon and strode from the mess.

The others stood around, as though waiting for the play to continue.

"That's it, folks: no second act. Take your popping corn and your programs and get the hell outta my dining room, dong ma?"

When no one made a move to leave, Mal rolled his eyes ceiling-ward and started for the bridge.

Sins of the father. Malcom Reynolds knew plenty 'bout sinning. When it came to fathering...well, there he knew considerably less.

---

"You again?" Carly grinned. "I'm flattered you've missed me so. To what do I owe the pleasure, Malcom?"

"I need a reason for wavin' my pretty sis?" He gave a sheepish smile at her raised brow. "Well, 'haps I could use a favor. The lady was married to my daddy...you know anything of her? A name maybehaps?"

Caroline's lips twitched.

"Mama referred to her as 'Frigid Bitch.' I'm fairly certain that wasn't her Christian name."

"Well, that don't sound much like--"

"--a woman speaking on her lover's lawful wife? She who shared his bed on a more regular basis?" Caroline gave an unladylike snort. "Be real, Malcom. Do you know Mama's age when she had me?"

"Let me see, you're just turned twenty-nine, so that'd make Mama..."

"Inara's fortunate to have snared such a charmer." Caroline rolled her eyes. "Since the day you were born, nothing but trouble."

"You know, folk always sayin' that. Frankly, I don't see it."

"No, I don't imagine you would. Fifteen."

"Shuh muh?"

"That's how old Mama was. When I was born."

"Wode ma."

"You knew her when she was older, wiser. She was different during my childhood. Younger and sweeter. More idealistic maybe. Naive. Was she ever crazy over your daddy. Used to dress in her finest frocks and let me spray rose-hip behind her ears. She'd clean and polish till the whole house gleamed and beat me if I tracked in dirt. She was high for days before he came, singing and dancing, making elaborate plans. When he left, she'd curl up under a quilt and stare at her bedroom wall, hardly blinking as though her eyes were glass. After he died...well, I guess you could say she grew up after that. Matured into the mama raised you."

"How come you never told me none o' this 'fore now?"

"Malcom..." She smiled softly. "You were the baby. Both Mama and I wanted to spare you what we could. I suppose we didn't either of us succeed."

"Hey, now. You both did a damn good job, best you was able. Don't start thinkin' otherwise just 'cuz I ended up a sumbitch."

"You're not bad as all that. Just stubborn mostly. Infuriatingly stubborn." She offered him a rueful smile. "Are you going to tell me what's worrying you now, Mal? Or must I start badgering the crew...?"

"Don't much want you frettin' over my troubles."

"You let me decide what's worth fretting over, Malcom Reynolds. Now: you gonna talk? Or should I summon Kaylee, have her sit on you till you spill?"

"Let's avoid that, shall we?"

He told her an edited version, leaving out the details of their hospital stay, how bad off his albatross was now.

"So in summation, we know a whole lotta nothin'. River says the way it is, and seein' as she's a reader...anyway, the pieces fit. Did practically walk outta that hospital complex with hardly a fight. Don't see them lettin' us walk, not unless...Ai ya, Carly, I don't want this. When did everything get so complicated?"

"Oh, Mal. Have you managed to un-complicate things with Inara at least?"

"Well, I wouldn't say it's simple. But, yeah. Yeah, me and her come outta this alright."

"I'm glad, Mal. I like her very much."

"You did mention," he said dryly.

"Brat."

She stuck out her tongue, somehow made it seem ladylike.

"Is the sex still fabulously exciting?" she asked just to see his ears burn.

"Tan de ma! Jesus, Carly."

"Good sex is therapeutic, Mal. I'm glad you're having it."

"Oh, I'm glad too. Now can we please talk about somethin' else? 'Fore I ain't never able to have it again on account o' this conversation killin' me dead?"

"Swear you'll be safe."

"Well, see, you're a little late on that note. Mama had some of the ranchers teach me all 'bout rubbers a few years back."

"Cute. You don't have to tell me your plans. Just promise you'll be careful."

"Carly...you don't gotta worry over me. This is what I do."

"I know what you do, Mal. Promise me anyway."

"You got my word. No thrillin' heroics, that's a promise."

---

"Mama! Mama, there's a wagon comin'!"

The Woman-Caroline knew it would be ten years before the Alliance came with cars, offering high-end models to wealthy plantation owners in exchange for land.

The Girl-Caroline had never heard tell of automobiles; she knew only that wagons meant visitors. New people, maybe the sort would bring presents. Carly rose to her knees in the garden, used the back of her hand to wipe the dirt from her face. She squinted off into the distance, trying to make out the figures seated behind the horses. They was real fancy; that much was certain. The sort bought their clothes in stores steada makin' 'em.

"Mama--oh!"

Mary Reynolds, tall and skinny with hair the color of honey, echoed her daughter's stance as they together peered off after the setting sun. It was an oddity--and indeed a rarity--to recognize the past as just that while one dreamt it.

"Wash up now, Carly."

The Woman-Caroline yearned to sink into the soil at her mother's feet, press her face against the skirt of her apron and sob. She ached for the comfort she'd been sorely missing all these years, the motherly advice she'd long gone without.

She wanted badly to wave Malcom.

"She's here, Little Brother. Our pretty mother, flesh unlined by age and worry, eyes not yet clouded with the sickness."

But Malcom wasn't a grown man with a ship and a crew and a lifetime's worth of hurt and guilt. He was a baby, a healthy boy, six months old and asleep in the kitchen. And she, Carly, was about to earn a smack for disobeying her mama.

"Do you think they's from this world? Have kind of a foreign look, don't they, Mama?"

"Upstairs, Caroline Ann. Rinse your dress out in the tub and change into your church clothes. Dong ma?"

"How come, Mama?" The Girl-Caroline appraised her mother with wide eyes the color of cornflowers. The color of Mama's and Malcom's, too.

"Cuz I'm liable to lock you up in the barn elsewise. That reason enough?" But her tone was indulgent, her hand affectionate as she patted her daughter's tangled locks. "Go on now."

After she'd wonder how much of the dream was real, how much invented to fill gap's in a little girl's memory. The Child-Carly hurried out of her dress and left it soaking in the bath. In just her underthings, she knelt at the window to watch the visitors approach the door. The man was the one called Derrial. The lady--well, her memory couldn't possibly have conjured the lady. She was the most fabulous creature on which eleven-year old Carly had ever laid eyes.

Whirling, Carly dug out her church things. The Woman-Carly moaned for her to go faster, wishing she could assist with the column of tiny buttons. Finally, both woman and girl made it down the steps, stocking-slippery feet sliding to a stop on the kitchen tile.

"Caroline." For a woman whose moods shot wildly around the barometer these past months, Mary Reynolds seemed shockingly composed. "Why don't you brew tea for our guests?"

"Yes, ma'am." Carly gave a little curtsey, just in case her manner were up for debate. She filled the kettle and set out tea cups--Grandma Reynolds's good china--before rooting around in the ice box for milk and cream. She snuck quick glances over her shoulder, and so absorbed the visiting lady in snatches.

She was pale for one, her face smooth and creamy 'stead of pink and brown like Mama's. Dark tans were common among the Shadow's women, those who worked in her fields, labored and toiled under the ever-beating star. But then, someone this lovely and kind—for Carly was sure now she was that—couldn't possibly have work on a ranch. Riding would muss her hair, a thick, lustrous black that hung straight to the waist. Envious, Carly fingered her own messy waves, hastily tied back from her face with a faded red ribbon.

"Won't you sit?" Mary inquired of the guests.

The dark-haired beauty removed her short velvet jacket, draped it over the seat of her chair before obliging, as though to protect herself from something in the wood. Filth? Poverty?

The Woman-Carly wanted to cry for her poor mama. The child wondered whether they'd forgotten to dust.

"You don't wear mourning, Miss Reynolds. Shall I admit I thought you would?"

"Isn't mourning the true wife's prerogative?"

"Come now, Mary. Will we just now try to establish boundaries? After all, you saw fit to go to bed with my husband. Is it really so much worse to mourn his passing in proper dress?"

"Perhaps black simply isn't my color."

"No. No, I imagine you're more inclined to brown."

"Emmy."

Derrial touched her wrist, a subtle gesture that the child-Carly missed even as the adult absorbed its import.

Mary raised her chin, jaw set in a stubborn line.

"I don't 'spect you came all this way to discuss my wardrobe. Emmy."

"No." The younger woman picked imaginary lint from the rich silk of her skirt. She smoothed the fabric over her knees. "No, Mary, I did not."

"Then maybehaps you'll be kind enough to state your true ruttin' purpose."

"Perhaps this discussion isn't fit for impressionable ears."

"Perhaps those ears are mine to deem impressionable or not."

"I'm sure that's so. After all, the child's borne witness to adultery. Surely a civilized conversation can't distress her overmuch."

Mama's nostrils flared but she kept her voice low.

"I'm thinkin' you ought get to your point."

"My point, Mary, is very near to our present topic of discussion. It concerns my late husband's offspring."

"She ain't his." Mary jerked a head in Caroline's direction.

"Be that truth or falsehood, I can do nothing for her. How old are you, child? Eight? Nine?"

" 'Leven." Caroline watched her younger self lift her chin in imitation of her mama. "Just smallish."

"Even if she were his daughter, she's—to employ a simple analogy—dwelled too long with the bitch that bred her."

At the stove, the Girl-Carly whirled.

"That ain't a word you wanna be callin' my mama, you fancified huss—!"

"Caroline!" The woman watched her mama press narrow white lips in an obvious attempt to stifle a smile. "Please leave the room, bao bei."

"But, Mama, did you hear what she—"

"Ain't askin', Carly. Get."

Sulking, Carly stomped out of the kitchen. She pounded up the stairs and then crept halfway down again, careful not to let the old boards creak under her feet. Gingerly, woman and girl lowered themselves to the step, angled their ears toward the kitchen.

"— in earnest I can't quite fathom you bein' here. Hell, you didn't give Quentin a thought when he was livin'. Bet you took more time pickin' out the veil for his funeral than you ever did seein' to his needs."

"But, Mary." The stranger's tone turned haughty. "I had you to see to those needs."

A hesitation.

"He was mine 'fore he was yours," Mama said at last.

"And now he belongs to no one." Could that mournful lilt be termed melancholy? The girl-Carly fumed too hard to care. "The choice to come here wasn't one I took lightly. I weighed it over for many days before concluding it was my wifely duty."

"I ain't understandin' your full meaning."

"Then let me be exceedingly clear. Surely you're aware that Quentin fathered no legitimate offspring. As his widow, I've decided to assume responsibility myself for his sole heir. The bastard who sleeps there in the basket as we speak. A boy, isn't it? I'd like to take him back with me, Mary. I'd like to raise him in a manner befitting his father's son."

For several moments there was absolute silence in the ranch house. Even the dust clusters seemed to float in space, shimmering in place as light from the setting sun pierced the drafty windows.

"Naturally, I would compensate you for the boy." She spoke faster now, as though eager to be out of this place. "They crashed Quentin's accounts, of course. But my own family is quite wealthy. Name your price and I'll have the credits transferred to your account. If you prefer, I can pay in coin."

When Mama finally spoke, her words were weary, her throat hollow.

"You ain't the least bit shamed. Walk in my house, have a seat at my table. Sit there in your fancy dress and offer me gold in exchange for my child."

"And you look back at me holding my husband's son—a son by his mistress—and ask whether I feel shame. I'm ashamed, Mary. Ashamed enough for us both."

"I—I want you to—"

"—go. Yes, I thought you might. Derrial and I have rooms reserved at the Inn. No, don't blame him for this. I engaged him as my escort but would have come alone if he'd refused. We'll be here the night and perhaps another. Please don't let your hatred for me color this decision. The coming years will be hard ones. Worlds like Shadow…I can give him a better life than you. I can give him everything you can't."

"I'm sorry, Mary." The man meant it; Carly could tell. "I—"

"Please be leavin' my house now, Mr. Book."

Book. A funny name, Mr. Book. Mr. Derrial—ohhh.

In her bed on Boros, Caroline woke with a start. When her breathing calmed, she went to wave her brother.

---

He was going to the abbey. Maybe the trip would yield naught but more mysteries. Maybe the Shepherd had done his damnedest to keep these bits of the past buried. But he had to go to Bathgate. And he had to go without Serenity.

"The last thing I want's you hurt." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "Tell me you know that, Inara."

"I'm not an imbecile."

"No, you surely ain't that. This...ai ya, it's what I have to do. Ain't none of it 'bout shutting you out."

"Rutting hell it isn't. You're shutting me out...and Zoe and all the rest. You don't have to do this alone, Mal."

The strain of controlling all her expressions proved too great. Her voice rang true though her lips twitched.

"This is what you do. How foolish of me to think three little words would change that."

"I--you can't think...Inara, I ain't never said that before. Not to nobody."

"I know, Mal." She softened, lowering her lashes. "And I believe you meant it."

"I did. I do. Inara, I--"

"Don't. Just..." She backed away, holding out her hands so he wouldn't touch. "Don't. Can't you see you're making it worse?"

"I ain't leavin' this room till you talk to me."

"What do you want from me, Mal? It's blatant you've already decided. What would you have me do?"

"What would I have you—? Ai ya, I don't know, Inara. Could get all misty-eyed and beg me not to go. Could do somethin', anything, to stop me. Could scream some and slap me—Ye su knows I'd be deserving o' that and more."

A faint smile played over her lips even as her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"While the last is rather tempting, I think I'll refrain."

" 'Cuz I'm so damn pretty?" He was trying for levity. " 'Cuz a slap would mar my pretty complexion?"

"No. No, because you don't deserve the satisfaction. Ren si de fo zu, you've quite the penchant for suffering, Mal. Did you pick up that habit at the knee of your childhood priest? Or was this particular foible learned straight from the trenches?"

"You're bein' cruel. It don't much suit you."

"I'm sorry." She turned away to hide her face but the wetness of her cheeks sparkled shiny in the lamplight. "You didn't deserve that."

"Yeah, I did. That and more, and more again." He hauled her around by the arm, tugged her forcibly against his chest. "Can cry on me, Darlin'. I ain't quite sweet enough to melt from it."

"I don't want you to go. I love you. Damn you, Mal."

"That 'bout sums it up."

"Finding your child was a given; it's who you are, Mal."

Funny, but he thought he was the one who ran. Not for the first time, he wished the Shep were still around. Oh, they'd be havin' a talk 'bout now...

"I just hoped, however naively, you'd let me help."

He stared at a spot someplace over her head.

"Too dangerous."

"We've been in danger before. Risked our lives before."

"That was different."

"Different how, Mal?"

"Okay, so it ain't different. It's exactly the same ruttin' thing. And look how good that turned out!"

She sighed.

"Mal--"

"Only I won't do it again. Won't set you in harm's way or see you hurt. Said once I wouldn't watch you die. That ain't negotiable. Anyway, this isn't the end o' somethin'. I swear to you, I will come back….If you wanted, I'd marry you."

She blinked several times, her expression unreadable. Then she laughed shortly, a hollow sound that wasn't her.

"Oh, what a charming proposal. It's just what every girl dreams of hearing from her lover. 'I'll marry you...if you want. That is, if I don't come back in a box. If I don't come back altered or broken. If I come back at all.' "

"Inara." He sighed, employing his knuckles to rub at his temple. "I ain't one for talkin' pretty, as you probably surmised by now. Ain't much advanced of the doc when it comes to puttin' my thoughts to voice. But I do love you fiercely. Spent a long time battlin' those feelings and to no avail. Now that we are where we are...well, I surely ain't relinquishing that without a war. I'll fight with my last breath to make it back to you, Darlin'."

"That's what worries me, Mal. What gives you the right to insist on my safety while throwing yourself repeatedly in harm's way? Who awarded you power to decide our fates?"

"God?"

"God?" she repeated dully.

"Him who bestowed the masculine race with upper body strength. And, of course, the penis."

"Of course. Mal?"

"Yeah, cupcake?"

"I may slap you after all."

"Anytime you've the inkling." He sobered, tilting her chin to look her in the eye. "These folk don't play games, Inara. Had the misfortune to meet up with some Blue Sun men during my second tour. Armed Forces Division. They was lookin' for information, names and locations and the like. Bein' just a lowly sergeant, I didn't happen to know what they needed. Didn't stop that from tryin' to torture it out of me. Went on three days till Zoe and some others stumbled upon where I was. By then, I was more than half dead and wishin' to be all the way gone. I'd go through all of it again if it meant keeping their hands off you, Nara."

"Mal—" Her voice was worn, weary. She yearned to hold him, kiss away the pain with her lips. She couldn't even touch it.

"See, now that I've had hands on your myself…well, makes a man all manner of possessive. Prefer that my hands be the only ones henceforth. Well, 'ceptin' Lil' Kaylee, I 'spose. Is mighty cute watchin' the two of you cuddle."

"Mal...what if you don't find what you're seeking at the abbey?"

He didn't have an answer to that so he just held her.

---

When he was packed, he went looking for her. She sat alone in her bunk, reading some book on the bed. When he entered, she laid it down, stroked a single finger over the spine.

"Mal."

"Nara."

"So, be landin' on Bellerophon within the hour...Came to say my goodbyes."

"Right. Goodbye, Mal."

"Goodbye."

He caught her around the waist just as she reached for his shoulders. His hands stroked up her torso, lingering to cup her breasts. They slid over her throat before disappearing into the black of her hair. He kissed her like he might not have the chance again.

She slipped her fingers under his belt, pulling his shirt free. Then she grabbed hold of his hands and tugged him toward the wall.

Realizing her intent, he unzipped his trousers. He groaned as her fist closed around him, thrust a hand under her skirt. She was wet for him; that knowledge alone had him throbbing for her. He plunged a hand down the front of her panties, dragged them to her knees.

No words. Just her gaze: open and inviting. A slim, graceful leg wrapped itself around his waist. He lifted her up under her bottom and drove into her.

Save her little gasp at his entrance, everything went quiet. Slippery skin glided noiselessly as they coupled against the wall. The only sound to pierce the silence was their breathing, warm and pregnant in the muted glow of her desk light, and the gentle rustle of clothes they hadn't bothered to remove.

He went into her over and over, sliding almost all the way out before driving his full length in again.

She was boneless, wrecked, barely capable of holding herself upright. With her fingers, she found the spot on his neck that made him writhe, put her mouth there and sucked. He shivered against her, met her eyes in the darkness. She caught his face in her hands, and they made love with their mouths as their bodies found release.

After they rearranged their clothes. He sat on her bed, watching as she brushed the sex from her hair, making it again smooth and sleek. He went up the ladder first, helping her the last few rungs.

She didn't cry when he said his goodbyes, not even when he brushed his lips over her cheek, murmured a not too quiet "I love you" by her ear as the others--save Kaylee who knew already and looked pleased and River who looked something Inara couldn't name--stared politely at their boots.

He'd have gone then, except Raven, perhaps sensing the heaviness in the adults, gave a little shriek and held out her chubby arms.

"We already said our goodbyes, Little Chick." But he took the wiggly bundle from Zoe, pressed another kiss to her rounded cheek. "Be good for your mama, dong ma? Lord knows she gets enough grumblin' from me."

"Reckon by now I'm used to you, Sir. And I understand why you're goin'. Figure I should say it now in case you get yourself killed."

"I appreicate that, Zoe."

"Still don't feel right, though--you goin' off on your own. Used to keepin' my eye on you, Sir."

"Well, see, I need you watchin' my boat."

"You mean my boat?" she teased.

"Don't go gettin' too attached there, Zoe," he warned. "You're just borrowing, hear me? Borrowing. And I don't want the kid talkin' till I get back," he ordered of no one in particular. "Understand, little one? You hold off on the first-word business."

He gave the baby one last squeeze and offered her to River, lingering to his left.

She shook her head.

"Albatross?"

"You're good with her." She gave a watery smile. "You'd make a good daddy."

Mal looked surprised, took a hesitant step toward the girl.

"Darlin'--"

River turned hot, hurting eyes on Inara.

"It should be yours!" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Not mine, dear Ye su, not mine."

She ran from the room, clutching her injured arm to her chest.

"River." Gideon took a step to follow but Mal shook his head and watched her go.

"You ready, kid? Let's see what that heap of Alliance go suh can manage."

Gideon nodded, hefted his bag.

Mal stroked a hand over Serenity's walls.

"Take care of my girl, Kaylee." Then, more quietly, his eyes on Inara, "Take care of both my girls."

Serenity's crew watched its captain leave the ship.

---

Amos Kane did as he promised. They found the Champion in good repair and full of fuel, ready and waiting in a warehouse outside Sweet Leaf not five kilometers from the spot where Gideon abandoned her. Mal sat shotgun, figurin' he oughta let Gideon fly this part.

"Just for a spell, mind you." He smirked. "I'm a quick study."

"She's a smooth ride. You'll have the hang of her soon enough."

"Guess we'll wait and see, Kid." He watched them soar into the darkness. "Guess we'll wait and see."

---


	21. Chapter 21

AN1: The River Tam Story by River Tam. Little experiment. Will return to space reality for the next installment.

---

I hit him. Crack. Sorry, Jayne.

"Son of a--" One hand covers his eye.

Two steps closer.

"Kiss it better?"

''Gorrammit, girl." Looks over shoulder, eyes like a bug's. Space bugs that bite in the night. Giggles.

"This is just hi-larious, huh? You tryin' to get me dead?"

"No. Supposed to dodge it."

"I know that, girl. Don't you think I know that?"

"I'm better. Stronger now."

"Guess you are."

---

Panic. Baby's hot, too hot. Sticky hot skin.

I sit up. I scream and scream. Lights. Footsteps.

"River?"

"Oh, God. Don't know what to do! Feed a fever, starve a cold. Or reverse it? Simon!"

"Shh, I'm here. I'm here, River." He strokes my hair. Feels nice. Safe. Lucky Kaylee.

"Which one do you starve?"

Simon looks confused. Smiles at last.

"Generally starving your child is frowned upon..."

I blink a few times. Now, I'm the confused one. Realize he's teasing.

"Scared," I say softly.

"Don't be scared. I'm not going anywhere."

"Alone."

"You are -not- alone."

"Love you, Simon."

Surprise. Eyes, nose and mouth all relax.

"I love you too, River."

"Stay till I fall asleep?" Lips curve. "Won't try anything smutty."

Simon groans.

"You do enjoy tormenting me more than anything else in this 'verse."

"You're easy." Snuggle into his side, head on chest. Simon holds me. Safe.

---

Try to make Kaylee see.

"Dreams. Fire, and flesh. Got scared."

"Aw, honey." Kaylee likes to touch, hug. Hugged Captain Daddy when he needed it and didn't know it. Always giving hugs, sweet Kaylee.

"Needed Simon. Sorry."

"Sweetie, if I only gotta share him with you, I think I can bear it."

"Nighttime's when the grown ups play their games."

Kaylee laughs. Belly laugh, not polite or pretend.

"Who told ya that, honey?"

Don't say Wash. Stares and faces always.

"Secret," I say instead.

"Well, you're a grown up too, River. All grown up and pretty as a painting of...of...things that are pretty."

"Stronger now." Make a smile happen. "Some bruises fade."

"They all will, honey. You'll see. And till then, you just borrow my man any time you want. Oh, hell, that sounded sorta weird."

"Kaylee?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you lie with me...if you had man parts and man desire?"

"I--well, sure, sweetie. Sure I would."

"Cut my own hair." I finger the bits.

"Don't matter none." Shiny Kaylee smile. "Hell, beauty like you would look good bald."

"Would save time on the washing."

We grin together. Silly fun.

---

"Wash, why do you love flying?"

"Cuz it hurts less than crashing?"

I try to look stern.

"Serious."

"Fine, ruin my fun. I love the sky, sweetie. Not for the same reasons Mal does, mind you. Captain--well, he headed up here 'cuz it was the only place left for 'em. Way he came outta that war, there wasn't a chance of him surviving in the worlds. For Mal, the sky's space to breathe."

"And for you?"

"A wild, unpredictable mistress, whose beauty's only matched by her savagery. You can lose yourself in her, but she might just swallow you whole. Holy handsome goslings, though, what a way to go."

Sad smiles all around.

"Miss you, Wash."

"I miss you too, sweetie."

"Whisper in Raven's ear. Sometimes she sees you."

"Poor kid. In twenty years she'll be in therapy. 'Help me, Doctor. I dream of large blond men in flowery shirts.'" Evil smirk. "Hope Mal gets the bill."

"Little Chick knows her daddy. I tell her over and over."

"Aw, River, let's talk about something else. Quick, somebody make a joke."

---

I know a funny joke but who would laugh?

She sleeps in his room now. His hair soap clings to the pillowcase. She rubs her cheek and hopes the scent will stick.

She misses the fighting:

"Mal, you need new pants."

"I happen to like my pants, thank you." She likes them too. They're absurdly out of fashion. But they're Mal. So she likes them. Still:

"You see this?" She puts her hand in, pinches the flesh of his backside.

"Ow!"

"That's a tear, Mal. And there's another just under the fly."

"Why don't you stick your hands in that one, darlin'?"

She smiles. She can't help it. Forces her face to be steely.

"It wouldn't kill you to try something new."

"Well, see, you don't know that. What if it does? Kill me, I mean. Surely you'd be feelin' badly."

Dark eyes roll. Secretly, she's pleased. This is a good fight, pants. Pants is harmless.

"If the new pants kill you, I'll have 'Mal was right' tatooed on my body. Everyone will see it at the funeral. Happy? Now can we please go shopping before the stores close?"

"Tatoos. Huh. I can think of a few spots on you I wouldn't mind readin' my name." It's a lie, but a fluffy one. He worships Inara's body, its lush expanses, its smooth perfection. For all her lovers, she's as untouched ground. Every day he fears he'll be the one to blemish that virgin flesh.

"You have to die first." She glares but it's half artifice. Sometimes they make love mid-fight. After, they pick up the argument with their discarded clothes.

"Anyway, just what's so wrong with my old pants? Nothin' that can't be patched. Hell, if you was a good little wench, you'd mend 'em for me." He has a knack for making her mad. He likes to make her feel, knowing so few have. Beneath his torn-up tightpants, the captain goes hard.

"Mal, are you bored with our sex life? Is that why you're trying to kill it?"

Captain holds up his hand in surrender.

"Guess you ain't the sewing type. No hard feelings." Smirks. "You know, that glare calls to mind a virgin schoolteacher. Kind who carries a ruler and cries herself to sleep nights."

"You do have quite the imagination, Mal. How many virgin schoolteachers have you known?"

"None that stayed as such after meetin' me." He smirks.

She sighs, wondering at her weakness for cocky, crotchety men. No, weakness implies a pattern; for Inara, there's only been Mal.

"Merciful Buddha! Why are we talking about this? I only wanted to buy you pants."

"I am gettin' that the pants thing is mighty important to ya. You're kind of obsessing here, cupcake."

"I'm just firm."

Now it's his turn to grab her backside and squeeze.

"Got that bit right."

At night, she wears his t-shirts. She pushes the fabric up under her breasts and she trails soft fingers over her belly and she wishes they were his fingers. Frustrated, she fists her hand in sheets that have long lost his warmth.

Somebody make a joke.

Had him inside her, pumping hard and hot. Dug her nails into his back, made half moons in the flesh as he shook and shuddered and sighed his release. Felt him spill out of her, warm slippery substance on thighs still quivering. Knew his hands, lips, tongue in all her secret places.

And yet its my bits that mix and mingle with his, making something new and whole.

I know a funny joke but who would laugh?

---

He can't sleep. Wrong bed. Wrong mattress and blanket and pillow. Something's missing...what? Won't admit it's her presence.

He's tight. Tension coils in his belly. Head hurts, shoulders, back, hips. He thinks: Hell, maybe I do need new pants.

Too much for him, too much pain. I take some, glad to help.

I play Inara's part, easing his burdens. Relieved, he and I together feel the lines of his face soften.

-Something about this ain't exactly right.-

Close your eyes, Captain. Too tired to shut me out.

I smooth back his hair.

Pretty, I whisper.

-This mug?- We laugh together. -Maybe you are crazy.-

Maybe I am.

---

Dinner time. Jayne comes last. Everyone stares at his eye

"Happened to your face, Jayne? Looks like you crossed some space monkeys with wrenches." In Mal's place, Zoe plays the role of captain. Without the captain, there's no crew, no family, no Serenity.

"Aw feed your kid and quit ridin' me."

"It does look rather painful, Jayne." Inara cringes. "Maybe you should let Simon take a look."

"Day I let the doc anywhere near my face--"

"Never mind." Inara smiles. Sometimes Jayne's directness is refreshing. "Sorry I suggested it."

"Wait, I wanna know who hit him." Simon looks at everyone: Inara, Kaylee, Zoe, Baby Little Chick, me. "No one wants to confess? Interesting. You all have motive for punching Jayne."

"Hell, this is fun." Kaylee can make anything fun. " Just like dinner theatre, ain't it, Nara?"

Inara nods, graces Kaylee with an indulgent smile. She can't quite remember dinner theatre. Or dinners. Now, babies and black eyes stand in for linen napkins and bottles of bubbly.

"Solve the mystery, Simon." Kaylee beams. "Who did it?"

"Don't that 'all' include you, Doctor?" Zoe asks.

"Well, yes. I guess I'm a suspect as well."

"No, he ain't." Kaylee squints over her soup spoon. "That's too good a shot."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, honey. Anyway, my vote's for Zoe. Bet he said somethin' dumb and she let him have it."

"I didn't say a gorramn--!"

"Thanks, Kaylee. I appreciate your endorsement. Wasn't me though. Nara?"

"Don't look at me."

"Well, if it really weren't Simon..." Kaylee chews her hair. "That only leaves--"

"River?" Simon looks shocked.

"Oh, please." Jayne makes a face. "Like the little witch could really land one on me. Well, when she weren't in one o' her 'moods,' anyway..."

"You make it sound like PMS," Zoe muttered.

"Since you're all such gorramn gossips,'spect I won't get a minute's peace till I tell you how it was."

He looks at me. He lies without understanding why.

"And how was it, Jayne?" Zoe baits.

"Ai ya, ruttin' bunch o' impatient...truth is...well, I slipped in the shower and fell face-first on my fist."

"How did...?" Inara changes her mind. "Actually, I don't think I wanna know."

"Oh, like you and Mal don't never get frisky in the showers. Only difference is, I ain't listenin' to no girly chatter while gettin' my rocks off."

Simon lays down his fork.

"And I was so enjoying my molded protein."

"Shouldn't've asked if you didn't wanna know." Jayne shrugs. "Hell, man's gotta get his jollies some way."

"Do folk still say that?" Kaylee's frowning. "Jollies?"

"I'd just as soon not hear Jayne say it again. River, maybe you should finish your dinner in the common room. This conversation's taken a turn for the revolting."

I just smile at Simon and slurp my soup.

I have a secret.

---

This is my favorite part. It's Simon's too, but he won't say it. He's afraid she'd laugh, elbow his ribs and ask,

"How 'bout that other part?"

He waits all day for this ritual, sacred to him as the tea is to Inara, as the Bible was to Book. It's repetition and it's comfort. It's home.

Every night she enacts the tradition. Every night he lies on his back, hands folded, and watches. And waits. He feels like a voyeur, a pervert, Jayne. But he's addicted. He can't not watch.

First she looses her hair from the band. She shakes her head so the heavy weight of it waves around her face. Then she unbuttons her coveralls. She talks while she strips. Tells him sweet things, everyday things, things about the ship and sexy things. When she's excited, she runs it all together.

"Fixed the starboard engine hydraulics--didn't take no time at all. Cap'n thought it was the primary fluid pump was broke but really was the solenoid valve all along. Nara came to visit whilst I was workin' on the engine actuator and we got to talkin'. "

Simon doesn't understand a single word. He thinks: 1. my wife is brilliant, and 2. this ship is a piece of--

"Wanna hear a secret?"

Nice having secrets. Nicer having someone to tell.

"Sure."

She unhooks a plain white bra, wiggles matching panties over her knees. She wishes her underwear were lace, as fine and rich as Inara. She's eager to be free from it; naked she's confident. She has a good body, Kaylee does. Soft hair and supple skin and sweet curves. She stretches, bending to work the kinks from her back, aches that come from lying under an engine for hours, curving and twisting to reach Serenity's innards. She tugs on Simon's shirt--always the one he's just discarded so as not to waste--and beams over her shoulder.

She could take a new shirt, one from the drawer, fresh and smelling of lemons. He wouldn't mind if she took a new one. He knows she's in pain. Now and again, her back tightens up. She never complains, not wanting to trouble him.

He's enough worries already, she thinks. She's right: I take so much time.

If they lived on Osiris, she needn't work. This thought comes to him, unbidden as a bruise. It's so very -Core.- It's so very -Father.-

He makes room on his lap--she worries he won't always; he worries she'll stop asking--and she climbs astride his hips.

"Cap'n's set to wave Nara tonight."

"And she told you that outright? How scandalous."

She laughs, and they kiss. Simon didn't kiss a girl till he was eighteen and a freshman at the med acad. Kaylee let her first boyfriend get to second in the sixth grade. Now it's all meaningless; they forget the past in each other's sighs.

"That ain't it, least not all of it."

"One moment. Is this the kind of story that ends with me unable to look Mal in the face for days?"

More giggling. More kissing. Kissing leads to groping leads to lower groping. When Simon puts his hand between her legs, Kaylee wants him to leave it there forever. She wonders how that would go over at mealtimes.

"Seein' as they ain't been together in a few weeks...well, she's gonna ask him somethin'."

"You're going to draw this out, aren't you?"

A breathy giggle in the dark:

"Nara wants to have Cortex sex."

"Shuh muh?"

"Aw, c'mon, Baby. Ain't you ever done it?"

"Kaylee..with whom would I have Cortex sex? My wife and I share a bunk on a reasonably small spaceship."

She giggles again, kisses his neck. She knows all his favorite spots.

"Well, what 'bout 'fore me? Back when you was the sexiest trauma surgeon in Capital City."

"Ah, yes. The good old days of doing nurses over the Cortex."

"Why, Doctor Tam! Hell, I'm shocked."

"Kaylee?"

She likes how he says her name, how he opens up the 'a' in his throat.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think he'll do it?"

"Cortex sex? I dunno. Cap'n can be a little...well, puritanical's the word comes to mind. Still, he's a guy. Don't you all got urges? Needs?"

"I--well, yes." She's so sweet. How is she his? He wonders this every day. "Actually, though, I wasn't talking about the Cortex sex."

"You mean to say...gettin' his and River's baby back?"

I hold my breath and shut my eyes. Silly little crazy girl: I can see just as easy in the dark.

"That's what I meant to say."

"I dunno." Paws his hair, silky bits between the fingers. "Seems he's set on tryin'. How's that sittin' with ya?"

"The 'verse is a big place, Kaylee. I'm not sure how he'd even go about finding a...a small--"

"But...if he somehow snatched it back...him or her. Baby that's made from your sister How would you feel 'bout that?"

"I guess I'd feel...worried."

" 'Bout the 'Liance? Them never leavin' us be?" Kaylee lays her head on his chest. She doesn't think about it, just does. Knows he'll thread his fingers, trace her scalp with the tips.

"Partly. Partly because of the Alliance."

"How 'bout the other partly?"

"Kaylee. I'm not ready to be a father."

"Simon...you know somethin' I don't?"

"I didn't mean...you're not...of course you'd know whether or not you're...You're not. Right?"

Boob.

She doesn't mind his rambling. Just another part makes him Simon.

"You talkin' 'bout their baby? Honey, why would you gotta be...ohh."

"My sister is nineteen years old. In less than two decades she's undergone kidnapping, torture, brain surgery. She's been made to hunt and kill and see death. She's strong, Kaylee. River always was stronger than..." Simon lowers his lashes. Kaylee presses sweet kisses to his eyelids. "I won't make her be mother to a child she never asked for. I won't make her carry that burden."

"Does it gotta be that? A burden. I'm sure the cap'n would...well, he'd do somethin', I'm sure."

"I know you love Mal, Kaylee."

"Course I love him. He's the captain. Always there for us."

"He's a good man."

"Best," she says.

"And I admire the way he's seen to Zoe and her daughter."

"He loves that lil' girl. Extra to make up for...Wash..."

"But Raven isn't his child. She's Zoe's. And Zoe...I know Zoe and Mal went through that war together. But they came out of it differently."

"You don't think the cap would make a good daddy?"

"I'm not saying that.

"You're just not entirely comfy with him raisin' your niece or nephew."

"Not on his own. Not when River..."

"She's havin' the nightmares again. Ain't she."

"Yes. I love her so much, Kaylee. I need her to be well again. Maybe that makes me a bad person. For caring more about my sister than...than..."

"--than a baby you never met? That don't make you bad, Simon. Makes you human. But none of us on this boat is alone. We all got eachother. Maybe that don't seem like much--maybe it ain't much--but as the cap'n would say--"

"--it's enough?"

Maybe. Maybe.

---

She flies while we slumber. They rest, but she finds no serenity, not even in sleep.

Jayne is corporeality. He seeks motion, living to touch and taste, tasting and touching to live. Always going, going. At night, he's as a boy, chin dipping down to kiss his chest, eyes fighting sleep. A child protesting bedtime, refusing it for loathe of the stillness.

"Jayne."

"Huh?"

"You were sleeping."

"Weren't doin' no such thing."

"Captain's chair."

"Yeah, well, Mal ain't here. Do me something. Know what I'm gonna say?"

"No." It's true. It's a rarity even for Jayne to know what Jayne will say.

"If he ain't comin' back...don't tell us. Let us hope awhile longer. Shi?"

"Shi. Yes."

"Good girl." His voice is gruff from sleep. "That's mighty good of ya."

Kneeling now. On my knees. I rest tired arms on his legs.

"Kiss me now. Qing?"

He swallows. He's very thirsty.

"Then what?"

"Bits that fit."

"Why?"

I have to make him see.

"Kaylee and her underwear."

"Hold up...Kaylee's gonna be there?"

"Plain white cotton. Knows he needs that now. Wonders, will he always? Simon and his shots, wants to find the miracle, one can cure me. Shoot me, Simon! Shoot me with a shot, put a bullet to me. Dr. Tam's wondrous remedy. And Captain and Inara on the wire--can't stop the signal, no matter how much you wish...No respite, always fighting and fu--forgot, forgot about Raven. Sweet little baby, and Zoe: foolish Zoe thought she was free, finally free of Serenity till Serenity came calling. You'll never leave, never free yourself from her hold. Don't you see? All the most precious bits. Can you be everything, Jayne Cobb? Brother and mother and child and lover? Comfort me, Jayne. Make me mad enough to bite. Love nibbles, gnaw on your shoulder. Blood-passion and fierce pain-pleasure hybrids. Hurt my body and heal my soul. Please, Jayne? Please!--"

Kisses me then. Grabs my cheeks, one in each hand and forces my mouth open. Scrapes my face with his whiskers. Stinging. Jayne said it: "Not nobody likes pain." I do. Hands in my hair, tugging, twisting. Rip it all out and I'll be bald. Kisses my lips and sucks my tongue.

I wonder about hand placement.

He knows where all the pieces go.

"Hold up, now." Raspy breath. "Ain't gonna be like this. Not tonight. And, in the name of Lucifer, not in Mal's chair."

"I won't break."

"Did I say you would? Quit throwin' words at me, little girl. I know 'bout these things is all. Might not know much. But I do know sexin'."

"When?"

"When I ruttin' say so. Ai ya, Lil' Miss Gung-ho of a sudden..."

"Soon? Will it be soon?"

"Oh, can pretty much count on that." Backs away, man bits straining forward.

He hurts. Tonight we'll both go to bed hurting.

---


	22. Chapter 22

---

May 20.

To Malcom:

I'd wish for any son of mine the incomparable experience of loving a trained companion, including all its heady and sometimes less-heady pleasures, its lusts, its lows. I would not, however, advise my son to wed one.

The women of Sihnon reflect the best and worst elements of their ancient world, embodying the land's terrible beauty, her immense material worth, her long and vivid memory. A companion's craft is old; some say the art dates back to Earth-that-Was. When unfettered, such a creature shines like the twinkling lights of the Great City itself. Captured, though: captured she does not dim like light does when bound in paper lanterns, one of which adorns the doorway of every saloon and tavern and tea room in Sihnon City. Instead her soul flames, as though the paper itself catches spark from the inner candle, ignites and consumes itself until all that remains is ash.

Esmerelda, when first I encountered her, was a gift in every sense of the word. But first she was quite literally a present, bought and paid for by Aston who suggested none-too-subtly that I find a manner of alleviating my "distressing disquietude." Derry was less diplomatic.

"Son, you got a problem in your pants. Best you see to that."

I came to her that first time in a foul mood. I'd been docked on Sihnon eight straight weeks and hadn't seen Mary in twelve. I balked when Aston first informed me of the appointment. Now I'd nothing against sex as a rule, but I'd never stooped to paying for it. Emmy would teach me that Companions were so much more than common whores.

I tried to beg off; Aston insisted it was out of the question. Unification between Sihnon and the Allied Core could well depend on Guild support. The Five Houses and their heads held great sway over the Sihonese people; Emperor Kai himself was said to visit House Madrassa or Saraswati when the mood struck, and upper-level Companions often attended military balls and banquets. Hence, maintaining cordial ties with the Companions was most imperative. I'd keep my assignation with Esmerelda and bloody-well enjoy myself.

Understand, Malcom, when I met with Emmy that first night I was still very much enamored with your mother. I love her even now, scribbling like mad on these pages, watching Derry toss back shots of whiskey while the sun pushes higher over the horizon. If you were fortunate enough to grow to manhood under her care, you know as well as I that Mary Reynolds is an extraordinary woman. Quite often, she's also demanding and intractable. She fought like hell to stop me from coming here; a faded half moon over my brow bears testament to her candlestick-slinging rage. I wonder sometimes where we all might be if I'd listened. Alas, I did go to Sihnon, which is how I wound up in the scarlet-shaded bedroom suite of nineteen-year-old Esmerelda Slate, House Vidya.

Have you ever been in love, kid? It feels somehow sinful wishing such suffering on a baby who can't quite hold his head up. And make no mistake, Malcom: loving a woman is the most exquisite pain in the 'verse. (Your godfather who sits beside me insists a bullet to the kneecaps is worse. I've never been shot, so what do I know?) I'm rambling now and really haven't the time--don't make that face, Derry; it -is- funny. Ai ya, so, Emmy...

She poured tea for us first. The brew was strong, the taste bitter on my tongue, but I drank it all down, perhaps just for something to do with my hands. Maybe she sensed my turmoil; we spoke very little while we sipped her hot, pungent tea. After, she led me by the hand into her bedroom, which was really too basic a name for the lush, extravagant space with its palm fronds, its mirrors. Boudoir, 'sulking place' in the French, might have been more fitting. Later, she'd spend hours in ours, doing just that. But that's all of it much later.

She bid me sit down on the bed, invited me to undress and lay forward on wine-colored satin.

"You're very tense," she noted, kneading my shoulders. "Do all from your world carry such burdens? Or are you put upon more than others?"

I hardly knew how to answer that. I murmured something nondescript into the mattress, my words blurring into moan as her skillful fingers slid lower down my back. I felt dizzy and giddy, loose as my muscles under her slippery-oil strokes. Just what was in that tea? Maybe she drugged me. Maybe I didn't care.

By now her hands were in my hair. I don't know how to describe her touch but to say it offered everything and implied nothing.

"You're very pretty, Esmerelda of Vidya," I said after, as we lay naked on the bed, a cool sea breeze wafting in through the windows to dry our skin.

"And you're very sweet, Senator Webb."

"But not pretty?" In earnest, kid, I can't fathom what boost of ego had me joking with her.

She smiled, those red-painted lips curving in surprise.

"Pretty is not for men."

"Ah." I stroked her hair, the blackest I'd ever seen.

"What do you think of Sihnon?" she asked suddenly. It was her first impulsive act of the entire evening.

"Sihnon is...well, it isn't Londi. That's where I'm from, Londinium."

"That's not an answer, Quentin Webb." Her smile was playful. I wondered if she was playing -me.-

"Sihnon is...beautiful." I hesitated, feeling oddly truthful. "And...tragic."

She nodded slowly.

"It wasn't always."

"Can I see you again, Esmerelda?" I murmured, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Call me Emmy," she whispered and mounted my hips.

Once again, Derry makes faces.

"Really, Quentin. Perhaps your boy would rather not read of his father's dalliances."

"Emmy was hardly a 'dalliance,' " I protest.

"Then what was she?" Derry seems keen on asking the easy questions tonight.

Well, kid, you have to learn sometime. I didn't know my father--he was killed in a terra forming accident before my first birthday. But had he anticipated his own death (as I now anticipate mine) and written letters of this nature, I would have devoured the damn things, smutty bits and all. After all, he's more character to me than father, a constant source of speculation and fascination as I both hope and fear I'll be to you. Never knowing you, what harm can I do describing my lust for this girl--a Companion--with her heavy blue-black hair, kohl-lined gray eyes like Shadow after a storm and skin so pale it bruises under my hands' fervent assault?

I do wish you a Companion, son

---

She let Mal and Zoe converse first, though the anticipation had her chewing her hair. It was a childhood habit and a repulsive one. She forced herself to pose calmly on the edge of his bed while she waited for Zoe to send down the 'wave. Discipline, Inara. No, she would not change her dress for the fourth time, nor would she check her lipstick again. This was Mal. Malcom Reynolds, who wouldn't care if she wore the tablecloth as long as it showed some cleavage...if they had a tablecloth...which of course they did not. She gave a rather undisciplined shriek and threw herself back on his bed, kicking up her legs in frustration. Not even two months apart and already she was developing a nice little insecurity complex. Ren si de fo--

"Inara?"

"Mal!" She sat up rapidly, color flooding her cheeks. "Hi."

"So now I know what you do when I ain't there."

"Hmm? I just...I was only..." She sighed, shrugged a single shoulder. "Perhaps I'm not at my most graceful tonight."

"I knew that whole elegant thing was an act to get me in bed." He squinted, eyed her long enough to be unnerving. "Huh."

"Is something wrong?"

"No. No, just that you don't look any different."

She blinked, baffled.

"Should I?"

"Zoe said to say stuff 'bout you lookin' good." He gave her another once-over. "I ain't noticin' nothing changed..."

Inara raised a brow, watched him backtrack with amusement.

"Not that you don't always look... good. Better than good, even! What's better 'n good? Damn good? And I'm starting to think I shoulda just listened to Zoe on this one 'cuz now I'm ramblin' and likely lookin' the fool whilst you're prolly--"

"Mal?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

"That may be for the best."

"How soon till you reach Persephone?"

" 'Nother few days. You know, I ain't never realized just how big the 'verse is. Or guess I did, only I liked it that way. Now...now I feel like she might just swallow me whole. You ever feel like that?"

"I-I have." Now her world seemed cramped. Metal walls caving in to crush her, the unyielding black on all sides. Abruptly, she flashed back to a conversation she'd once had overlooking a herd of cows. She'd stared into a pair of blue eyes and sipped wine the same shade as their owner's blood. Blood that seeped through the bandage on his side, a proud testament to his bizarre brand of chivalry. Why would I want to leave Serenity? she'd asked and meant it. Despite the high-handed and largely unsolicited attempt to defend her honor--ai ya, perhaps in part because of it--she'd felt rooted to this ship. With Mal, the sky seemed open; without him, isolating. The past few weeks Serenity felt like her prison.

"And Gideon?" she asked. "How is he?"

"Oh, he's pretty much Gideon. You know, I get the feelin' boy don't like me much."

"You did hit him that once."

"Well, yeah. But just the once. Hey, tell me somethin', truthsome. You, uh, you miss me any?"

"I miss you." Her eyes darkened. "I miss you more every day, Mal."

"That's good, Nara. That's real good 'cuz I'm goin' outta my head with all the missing you." He shook his head, offered her that crooked smile. "You ain't fallin' for any other stick-up-his-ass ship captains, are ya? My still your one and only?"

"I'll probably take up with the next grouchy, gorgeous ex-Browncoat who crosses my path."

"Gorgeous? Think the sexual deprivation's gone to your brain, baby-doll."

There it was: her opening. She'd meant to have this conversation last week but he seemed so tired during their 'wave. Not just physically weary but emotionally ragged. She'd spent most of the twenty-minute dialogue trying fiercely not to cry. Mal had enough with which to cope; watching her sob seemed unnecessarily cruel. And the week before that was Christmas. She knew it hurt him, missing Raven's first official one; in truth his absence hurt them all. The previous year's holiday still hung heavy in her memory, and Christmas Eve night she dreamt of blood and betrayal. Still, lovemaking had a healing quality. Also, sex tended to render them wordless, an added benefit when it came to her and Mal. Perhaps she could soothe him, soothe them both, with a little creative imagining.

"Mm, about that: deprivation. I've a proposal for your consideration."

"Proposal? You tryin' to make an honest man outta me?"

"Perhaps 'proposition' is the better word..."

"Is that so? Well? Let's hear it."

She hesitated, decided the straightforward approach was the best one here.

"Mal, have you ever...engaged in sexual relations by unconventional means?"

Sometimes directness was overrated. Sometimes you had to...nudge.

"What do you mean, like backdoor stuff?"

She sighed.

"No, Mal, I wasn't referring to 'backdoor' stuff." She hesitated, raised a brow. "Wait a minute, have you--?"

"I--well, no. Why, have you--? Nope!" His hands flew to cover his ears, eyes squeezing shut in mock-panic. "Never mind. I ain't askin' questions when I don't want the answers." He risked a quick glance. "What are we talkin' 'bout again?"

"I'm never entirely sure." Frustrated, she raked a hand through her curls, took a slow breath. "What I meant before...I was referring to...partaking in sexual interplay over the medium of the Cortex connection."

"Inara." His mouth curved in a half-smirk. "You're talkin' 'bout Cortex sex."

"That's a slang term," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm talking about connecting in a meaningful way while we can't be physically intimate."

"So you wanna...? Huh."

His eyes took on a look of faraway enthrall.

"How do you feel about that, Mal?" she prompted.

"Ain't rightly sure yet. Do girls actually...with the pleasure giving...to the self?"

"Some women are comfortable enough with their bodies and their sexuality to pleasure themselves physically."

"And are you...comfy?"

"Do you want to or not, Mal?" Her patience was waning.

"Honey, it's just that I ain't--well, I ain't exactly done that before. I mean--of course I've done it--just not, you know, in front of people--"

"Mal." She smiled, softening. "We're lovers. I think it would be...sexy."

"I gotta wear something special?"

"Just your gorgeous smile."

He just shook his head.

"Frisky little kitten."

---

It was raining cats and dogs when they arrived at a modest structure about half a day's ride from Eavesdown. A young man, face full of baby fat and figure clad in robes, answered the door when they rang.

"Welcome to Southdown Abbey. How may I serve you?"

Mal raised a brow, shot Gideon a sidelong glance through the drizzle.

"Honestly, son, I ain't rightly sure."

The boy nodded gravely.

"Will you tell me your name?"

Mal told him, not entirely sure the admission wouldn't be met with bullets. This whole 'reputation-preceding-you' business was way overrated.

"Mr. Reynolds! We're so glad you've come."

"Ain't it a mite early for declarations of gladness?"

The boy smiled quizzically.

"Please, sir. Come inside out of the rain."

"Uh huh. Do me a favor? A few minutes notice if there's to be shooting? I wouldn't ask, 'cept I'm running outta shirts don't have holes and the little lady's a mite fussy over wardrobe."

The remark earned him another funny smile. Clearly his special brand o' humor was wasted on this crowd. Or maybehaps he weren't so comical as he thought.

The boy led them into a largish reception room, sparse and tasteful save a rather imposing wooden crucifix. Through a set of double doors, Mal could just make out the alter by candlelight. The entire space smelled of cedar.

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Reynolds. Mr. Reynolds' friend." He smiled at Gideon. "I'll locate the shepherd."

"Not half so snazzy as Bathgate," Mal said to Gideon when they were alone. "Hell, that place was a resort in contrast."

For all the kid's responsiveness, he mighta been talkin' to the air. In another part of the abbey, he heard chanting.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners..."

The shepherd didn't look how Mal pictured him, though to be truthsome he was picturing Book. This guy was younger, thirty-five or forty maybe, with a balding head and tufts of auburn over the ears. He was tall and just this side of gawky, with round eyeglasses over warm hazel eyes.

"Captain Reynolds. I wondered when we'd meet."

"Did you now?" Mal raised a brow. "I wonder at you wonderin' that, seein' as I'm standin' here wonderin' who you are."

"Shepherd Martin O'Riley." He smiled sheepishly. "You can call me Shepherd Marty."

"Uh huh. Listen, buddy...uh, Shepherd. I've come a long way to be here."

"Yes." Shepherd Marty nodded, squinting through his spectacles. "I think you have, Malcom. May I call you that, Captain? Malcom?"

"Well, most everyone just says Mal, but do as you please, Shepherd. Listen, can I get a cuppa coffee if it ain't a hassle?"

"Not at all. You must be exhausted, Mal. Should I have a room made up?"

"Why don't we just talk for now and see where things go?" Mal quipped. He plodded ahead at the shepherd's slightly-baffled frown. "Got some questions for you, Preacher. Maybehaps you already know what about. There a place we can converse in private?"

"My office, if you don't mind a bit of clutter."

"Shepherd, I got me a ship full o' people makin' clutter, one o' which is a nine-moth-old with more toys than her aunts and uncles got the good sense to quit buyin' 'em. I ain't no stranger to clutter."

"Children are true blessings, Mal. Do you have just the one daughter?"

"I--" He didn't stutter over the words. He simply had none. "Well, she ain't specifically mine, see. Belongs to my first mate."

"Ah. Well, friends are a blessing too. Speaking of which, will yours be alright while we chat?" Shepherd Marty gestured through the doors leading into the Nave. Gideon walked there among the pews, one slender hand smoothing over the wood.

"Him?" Mal gave a dismissive motion before following the preacher into his office. "He'll be fine."

---

He could hear them reciting Vespers now.

"Deus, in adiutorium meum intende. Domine, ad adiuvandum me festina." O God, come to my assistance. O Lord, make haste to help me.

He wondered if the captain would find the help he sought. Mal wanted answers. Gideon had stopped looking.

When he was a boy, his mother took him to services every Sunday. She carried him on her hip, held him on her lap for the mass. Gideon loved to watch her eyes light during the sermon. He'd wrap a tiny fist around a handful of her hair, rest his head on her shoulder and let the priest's gentle tones lull him into sleepiness. He didn't care much for the words; it was the mood that seduced.

They took him to his mother's church after the attack. His arms and legs hurt from hiding, waiting curled like an animal in that box. He caught sight of himself in a mirror. Dust from the old trunk coated his hair, dulling the flaxen locks. He thought of his mother's hair, the silky golden length of it, and started to sob.

The parish priest lived next door with his maiden sister. They made up a room for him in the attic, washed his dirty hair and tucked the small boy into bed. He didn't sleep that night. He saw blood and teeth on his eyelids, his mother's blond head bleeding red, cracking against the floorboards with each successive thrust. He saw it all, one trickling eye pressed against the keyhole: a small boy hidden away in a trunk while Reavers ate his parents.

When it was light, he'd slipped out of bed, tugged on the dirty clothes by his bedside. Barefoot, he padded next door to the church. He made his way down the aisle and took a seat in the first pew facing the windows. The sun gleamed through the colored glass, but Gideon knew the light was deceptive. His feet throbbed from walking in the snow. He folded them under his bottom and waited. And waited.

"Ad te clamamus, exsules filii Hevae." To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve.

He waited for two hours until the priest's sister awoke and found him, wrapped him in a blanket and carried him back to the house for breakfast. In the afternoon, they shipped him away to the orphanage. Gideon was glad to be leaving. He didn't want to stay at the church. He felt betrayed.

When he was ten, he stopped blaming God, opting to blame himself for awhile. He couldn't understand why he was hurting so badly, began to wonder if he didn't in fact deserve it. He begged for forgiveness, mercy that never came. After awhile, he stopped craving it. It wasn't his fault. He'd been just a little boy, one small enough to fit in a trunk. He tried to blame his father for hiding him, saving him only to damn him, but couldn't quite summon the contempt. In the end, there was no one to blame. In the end, there was no one at all.

Waiting for Mal, Gideon lit a candle for his mother and another for his father. He blew out both flames.

If God wasn't answering, Gideon wouldn't waste any more time asking.

---

One thing was for certain: men of God did make folk a mite twitchy.

"Where exactly did you come to know Shepherd Book?"

Mal took a swig of coffee, tried to sit up straight.

"Uh, well, met him here in fact. Persephone," he clarified. "I got me a transport ship, see."

"Serenity." Shepherd Marty smiled. "What a nice-sounding name."

"Now see how is it you know that? Name o' my boat. How is it you know all these details 'bout me when I ain't recallin' nothin' of you?"

"Would you like a refill, Mal?"

"No, I think we should...well, yeah. Yeah, okay. This is damn good coffee, Preacher." He hesitated, rethinking the cussing bit. "Sorry."

Marty just smiled and poured him another mug.

"I know you have questions, Mal."

Questions? More like huge gaping holes in understanding.

"You came to know Derrial when he booked--pardon the pun--passage on your transport ship?"

"That's how we met, yeah. I wouldn't say I know the man. Book's got somethin' of a cryptic streak. I--can I ask you somethin', Shepherd?"

"Well--well, sure, Mal."

"Was the shepherd, well...always a shepherd?"

Marty's lips twitched, amused.

"No one is born into this life."

"Well, yeah, but...was he somethin' else before? Something knows 'bout Operatives and Alliances and..bein' ironical?"

"Let us go for a walk, son. I've something to show you."

---

One thing about Ezra: sure weren't much to see. Jayne loaded the last of the cargo crates into the hold. Bullets and bandage spray this run. Ruttin' stupid is what it was.

"I ain't no pacifist, Zoe," he remarked earlier. "Might not know much. Still, didn't take a mind-readin' genius to know folk wouldn't be needin' all that bandage spray if they quit orderin' the bullets. Those Greenleaf clans been scufflin' for years now. Ask me, someone oughta just lay down arms. Hell, all that warin' is a waste of good coin."

Kaylee gave him her patented nudge--the one meant 'sensitive topic, shut your hole 'fore you wind up out the airlock.' Was her nature, he figured, looking out for everyone. But Zoe just shrugged.

"Might be a waste o' their coin, Jayne. But that's coin we need."

Much as he didn't like to admit it, woman was right. Food stuffs they bought with the penguin job was near spent. When that Kane fellow floated another delivery gig there way, Zoe took it, which is how they was here on Ezra, pickin' up guns and med supplies for a band of Greenleaf Browncoats didn't know the war was over. Course for some like the captain, war weren't never really over. But delusions aside, Mal wouldn't want 'em running guns in his absence. Was too risky, too high-profile. Also paid near double their transport fee. Jayne figured it was a combination o' these factors kept Zoe from telling the captain 'bout the Greenleaf job. She had balls, that one. A bit prickly for his taste, but gorrammit she had 'em.

Finished stocking, Jayne rose, raising his t-shirt to mop the sweat from his face. They'd landed smack in the middle o' the summer season, and today was hot as the guns burnin' a hole in their hold. A little siesta out in the air was sounding all manner of appealing 'bout now. Kaylee and Nara was gone to town for supplies, and Jayne wasn't of a mind to rush 'em. Hell, Greenleaf folk could wait a few more days 'fore blowin' eachother to Judgement Day.

Jayne strolled down the ramp, ambled around Serenity till he found a patch of grass would suit his purposes. He sprawled out on a nice stretch of green, tilting his hat to shade his eyes. Aw, hell, that was sweet. He dozed as the sun warmed the aches from his shoulders, let his mind wander where it chose. He could recall somethin' his old man used to say, bit 'bout guns not killin' folk, folk doin' that bit all on their own. Jayne reckoned there was some truth to that. Weren't always guns. Personally, he'd ended men with instruments rangin' from knives and bare fists to a Grape-Fizzy Blue Sun soda bottle once. Didn't always have to be guns, but gorram if they didn't make it easier. Anyway, Jayne's old man was a drunk. Snickering at a memory of the old bastard slipping down some stairs, Jayne didn't hear her approach.

"Jayne."

He jumped, lot like Lil' Kaylee when they'd watch a scary movie. Him and Mal used to tease her merciless, grabbin' her shoulders at the creepy bits, delighting in her screams. Inara would roll her eyes, question their maturity in her fancy, Core-bred way.

"You feelin' left out, Nara?" Cap had asked once, eyes all wide with innocence. When the slithery things appeared next act, Mal tossed a rubber snake in her lap.

Jayne never did know where Mal got the damn thing. Hell, he never knew Inara could shriek that way neither. She started right in slappin' him, which was funny as all diyu as the cap'n weren't expecting it. It went on a few moments, till Mal managed to grab her wrists. For a second or two, they looked at each other, all deep and serious. Then Inara rolled her eyes, murmured, "Very funny, Mal," and turned back to the screen. Kaylee and Jayne grinned at each other like loonies. Course that was all of it years ago, 'fore Miranda, 'fore Feds and Reavers. 'Fore they opened a box and found a naked girl the government broke. Sometimes Jayne sure did miss all that before. And sometimes...well, sometimes he wasn't so sure.

He held out an arm, giving her the choice. If'n she weren't so inclined...

She settled in the crook of his shoulder, laying her head on the Blue Sun above his heart. She smelled nice, like something powdery and clean. He rubbed her back through the fabric of her jersey. He could feel the clasp of her bra beneath his fingertips. Girl was so little she hardly needed one. Oops. He felt her lips curve against his chest.

"Sorry," he muttered.

" 'Sokay. You like them."

"Men like tits. Ain't hardly an Earth-that-was-shattering revelation."

"Men like breasts. You like mine."

"Hmm. Where's that brother of yours got off to?"

She lifted her face, graced him with a wide grin.

"Weird turn of topic."

"It's natural as hell." He cupped her breast in his big palm, used his thumb pad to raise the nipple to a pebbly point. Greedily, he watched for the moment when her eyes went dark. "These sweet little girls'll be the death of me."

Putting her weight on her good arm, she hovered over him. She skimmed his lips just soft enough to arouse, opened her mouth to stroke his tongue. She tasted like cherry chapstick. He wondered at her other flavors.

"Gettin' good at that," he said roughly.

"I wanna do more. Wanna feel more."

"Yeah. Yeah, know you do."

Planting his hands on her waist, he flipped her over onto the grass. He hesitated, eyeing her from above. In a swift motion, he tugged the Blue Sun shirt over his head, pressed it into her hand.

"Bite this if you're like to scream."

He bent her legs at the knee, began trailing his mouth up the sides.

"What happens now?" she whispered.

"Psychic genius and she can't figure what I'm doin' under her skirt."

"Girls like this, though? Receiving oral pleasure?"

"Never heard no complaints. Course I ain't ever heard this much chatter 'fore."

"Simon and Kaylee. Do they...?"

"Yep."

"Do the captain and Inara...?"

"On the rare occasion Mal's head leaves his ass."

She was silent a moment.

"Did Wash and Zoe--?"

"Wash did it more 'n anyone."

"How come--?"

"Are you gonna shut the rut up anytime soon?" Ai ya, kid actually had him nervous.

"Sorry."

"Now you tell me when something feels good, dong ma?"

"Thought I couldn't talk."

He took her hand, fisted the small fingers in his hair.

"Give this a good tug."

He drew his lips over her inner thighs, feeling the baby-soft skin quiver with each shuddery breath. He opened his mouth against the crotch of her panties, kissed her through the soft cotton and realized he was the first one to do so. She gasped. He sighed.

He raised his head, resting his chin between the vee of her legs.

"You want me to stop, girl?"

"Jayne." A smile played at the edges of her lips. "Don't you know we're just starting?"

---

"The rain's starting up again." Rex pulled the curtains closed, climbed in bed beside his wife. "How about Astrid and Cathan? For my Grandparents Grey."

"I like Duncan for a boy." Duncan: brown solider. She'd found it in the book of names he brought home last week, circled it with black pen and trembling hand. She pressed white knuckles to her lips, trying to curb the stream of hysterical giggles. She was glad for the darkness, glad it hid her shaking shoulders.

"Duncan's nice," he said, always the diplomat. "How about for the little lady?"

"Indra. Do you know what that means?" A whisper in the quiet of their bedroom.

"Can't say I do, Beck."

"Laden with rain."

"That's pretty I guess. A little maudlin maybe."

"Rain means renewal. Water washing away the filth. Like a river." Again she felt a flutter in her belly, a sudden urge to laugh until she wept. She was going mad. The pictures sealed it. They were hardly flattering; Reynolds was bound by law in his capture, those angry blue eyes staring out at her. And the mother, the fugitive Tam girl: dear God, she was only a child herself.

"Since you're the one getting fat, I guess you deserve final verdict." He snuggled up to her from behind, cupped his hand over the barely present bump at her middle. "Charlotte?"

Rebecca closed her eyes, feeling his lips nuzzle the nape of her neck. She wanted to turn in his arms, bury her face in the soft, familiar flannel of his night shirt. She also wanted to leave him, go away one day without warning and not ever come back.

"How do you think they'll look?" she asked boldly. "I bet the girl will be dark, brown hair and eyes."

"And the boy?"

She choked back a sob.

"Maybe he'll have blue."

---

He saw them strewn out in the sunshine. They were lying in the grass, his big, hurtful hands holding her head, her pretty hair tumbling over his arms. She sat facing him, her long dancer's legs wrapped around his waist. Huaide son of a bitch. Selfish son of a--

"Simon."

Beside him, Inara touched a cool hand to his forearm. He blinked at her through the blinding glare of the sunset. In her free arm, she carried a paper bag of groceries. Automatically, he hefted the heavy bundle from her arms, balanced it against his chest.

In spite of it all, Inara smiled. If the entire 'verse went mad, Simon would remain, as ever, a gentleman.

"Simon, come inside with me."

"I'm fine, Inara."

"Yes." She watched him watch his sister--his baby sister, for she knew he still thought of River as such--sit sprawled across the lap of a man more than twice her age, press kisses to the rough skin of his cheeks, her face flushed with sunburn and something more. "Yes, Simon. I see now that you're perfectly fine."

The sarcasm seemed to draw him from his reverie.

"You know, Inara, you can be snarky with the best of them."

"I don't know how anyone survives this ship otherwise. Let's have some tea, Simon."

"I'll bet she's not even wearing sun block. Her skin--she's so fair. She's always burned easily. She hated me for tanning when she always..." He sighed, raked a hand through his hair. "I'm not even sure she knows enough to...protect herself."

"Jayne won't let her get...sunburnt."

Together, they watched him straighten the bodice of her blouse, incline his head to kiss the hollow of her throat.

"Come inside, Simon."

Inara threaded their fingers, began tugging him toward the ship. Moral ambiguity aside, River's choices were her own. This moment was clearly a private one, something personal and particular, not anything a brother should be viewing. Simon seemed in agreement on that point at least. He let her lead him up the ramp and across the bay. At the stairs he hesitated, blue eyes so wounded it hurt to meet their gaze.

"Inara...Inara, she's suffered so much. I know she's not a little girl anymore."

"She isn't. She's a young woman, Simon."

"She's just young. And he's...he's..."

"Id with pants?"

Simon smiled.

"Don't take this the wrong way...But in another 'verse, a 'verse without Mal and Kaylee...I think you and I could have been very content together, Nara."

She graced him with a soft smile.

"I'll take that exactly as it was intended."

Grateful, he nodded and started up the stairs, one hand holding his head where the temple pounded.

"Simon?" she called after him.

"Yes?"

"Perhaps you could wait to murder Jayne. It's just that I know Mal would want to be there."

The doctor grinned, shook his aching head.

"Very, very snarky, Inara."

"I try."

---

"Hurry up, though. Tryin' to clean my guns here."

"This won't take long."

In the dim quiet of the galley, Simon sat opposite Jayne at the table. He folded his hands on the scarred surface of the wood, met the older man's eyes.

"I know you're sleeping with my sister, Jayne."

Jayne's hand twitched but didn't reach for any of the armory spread before him. He gave no other sign he'd even heard the accusation.

"I'm not going to kill you."

Jayne sniffed. "You couldn't."

"Maybe not. I think the attempt would be, shall we say, interesting."

"That it would, Doc. That it would. Know what's most freaksome 'bout the two of you?"

"Oh, do tell me, Jayne."

"Ain't that you both know so much 'bout the other gettin' sexed. Ain't that you're all proper and your sister's crazy. Hell, ain't even knowin' she can kick all our asses from here to Capital City. The part gets me, the real kicker in this, is how you both love eachother to pieces without understanding a damn thing."

"What don't we understand?"

"Who you both are. And, more to the point, who you ain't."

Simon shook his head.

"I've known River my whole life." His voice rose. "Just because you may have carnal knowledge--"

"Don't at that. Not the way you're thinkin'."

Simon nodded, lowered his head to his hands. Jayne sighed heavily.

"You feel like hatin' me awhile, I ain't gonna hold it against you. Well, no more 'n before I reckon."

"I don't hate you. You can't hate someone you don't respect."

Jayne lowered his gaze.

"Well, you're honest, Doc. Gotta give ya that."

"And I hope you'll be honest with my sister. Make sure she knows this is just...just--"

"She knows." He met Simon's eyes levelly. His mouth was dry. He really wanted the doc to go so he could chug a glass of water.

"Good." Simon stood. "I think we're done here."

"Glad we got that settled."

"Oh, and Jayne?" Simon hesitated in the doorway. His eyes trained on the lantern in the center of the table. "The bones in her face are still fragile. Try...try to kiss her gently."

---

He read the letters by candlelight, his butt going numb on the hardwood floor, his head hazy from exhaustion and that ceaseless chanting.

"Salve, Regina, Mater misericordiae,

vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra..."

"Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy," he murmured in a voice rough with emotion.

Shepherd Marty had left him alone hours ago. He'd seemed a decent sorta fellow, as preachers went. Tried his damnedest to explain things in a manner wouldn't prove overly jarring. Course messages from dead men often had that effect.

"Your Book was my mentor when I first arrived at Southdown. He taught me everything he knew."

"Everything? That so?" Mal bit back a chuckle.

"Then, rather suddenly, he expressed a desire to go out into the world. 'I have matters too-long avoided,' he explained. Within a month, he was gone. For nearly a year, we received only the occasional wave assuring us of his continued health and well-being. Then, one day, a parcel arrived. The contents of that package were several letters, all addressed to a Captain Malcom Reynolds, and a single letter addressed to me."

"I ain't followin'. If'n the preacher was with me all that time, why not just give me the messages his own self?"

"The letter bearing my name sheds some light there, Mal. It would seem that Derrial deemed you...unready to receive the other letters."

"Unready," Mal repeated dully.

"He didn't want you privy to the contents of the letters until you could fully appreciate their import. He wrote--forgive me, this is somewhat awkward: "The war of Independence shaped Captain Reynolds into a bitter, angry young man. He is not an evil man, not nearly so hopeless as he believes himself to be. But neither is he a truly good one. He offers love without accepting it in kind. He is incapable of accepting it. He isn't ready to receive the message I have to deliver."

Marty shrugged, clearly embarrassed.

"I actually think he liked you a great deal."

"Yep. That's a gushing review of a man, if ever I heard one."

"In truth, Mal. He found you quite...comical."

"I do try to keep the troops entertained."

"He said you saved his life."

"Only the first time."

Marty flinched.

"May he rest in peace."

"Someone oughta. The other letters...who wrote 'em?"

"Mal. They were written by your father..."

---

August 9.

To Malcom:

Sometimes she was so heartbreakingly sad. I imagine watching your world altered can have that effect. A week ago bloody skirmishes over the ownership of gold claims resulted in the destruction of a statue of Saraswati. Though the Independents actually overturned the goddess, most everyone blamed the Core soldiers for forcing their hand. To be fair, we don't steal gold claims from the Sihonese. We simply arrange for the claims to be lost. Sometimes I have to reassure myself I'm a good man, that I'm fighting for the right side. I go to Aston, and he tells me stories of the lawlessness and disease afflicting the rim. Backwards, violent civilizations, if you can call them that, where the women are sexual servants, the men solve problems with shooting. I hear these things, and my faith is restored.

Emmy didn't care a whit for the gold but the loss of the statue disheartened her. Her mother was of House Saraswati, and Emmy considered the goddess her protector. She showed me pictures from a book of rich illustrations and told me the tale of the Vritra, a demon of darkness. Her hand guiding mine, we together traced the pale, beautiful goddess crediting with slaying this evil. The ruination of her countenance suggested a bad omen in Emmy's mind.

"See the white lotus? That indicates her acceptance of the Absolute Truth," Emmy taught. "She is the goddess of all things good and beautiful."

"This?" I stroked a finger down her face, continued the path along her neck and shoulders, over the naked mounds of her chest.

"Fertility," Emmy admitted, her soft smile poking dimples in her cheeks. "But also art, literature, music. Intelligence and awareness. Prosperity." The smile left her lips.

"Do you really believe all that?" I hovered over her. "All those stories and rituals?"

"Of course I do."

"How, Emmy? How can you possibly?"

She looks surprised.

"How can you not?"

I just shook my head, rolled back off of her.

"And aren't I party to all that rashness and destruction? How can you stand to make love to me, Em?"

"It's my job."

"Oh, -well,- then." I threw up my hands in disgust.

"Hush. You're taking it all wrong. A Companion chooses her own clients, not once but twice. The initial decision is often something of a gamble; after all, how much can I really know of a man from a few moments conversation? A lot, in fact; I'm very good at my job. But not everything. The first choice is all about impressions."

"And yet that first impression decides whether or not you let a man into your bed, allow him between your..." I trailed off, repulsed by us both then.

She didn't rebuke me with words; her eyes were warning enough.

"That second choice though...there I must decide whether to see a man again, whether the arrangement benefits us both as any good Client-Companion relationship must. I knew I'd see you again, Quentin. Not because of your faith, not because of your politics. I chose you because we needed eachother. I can fill your wants, and you mine. Serving you serves me."

"What's the hardest part?"

"Shuh muh?"

"Your job: Companion. What's the hardest part?"

"Smiling," she answered without hesitation.

She must have read the hurt in my eyes; I hardly bothered to disguise it.

"I didn't realize I was such a chore. Dear God, is it all a lie? Do you paint on that coy simper with your lipstick?"

"Not with you."

"What a rousing denial. I hope you deliver that line with more oomph for your other clients."

"Companions aren't performers, Quentin. Yes, I try to please you. Yes, I try to comfort you and ease your pain. But I do not act. I believe in what I do with my clients, the words we say, the physical exchange of comfort and pleasure. I believe in it, but I don't always enjoy it. With you, I enjoy it."

I didn't say anything. This would be as close as Emmy ever came to saying she loved me.

"Quentin?"

I traced her lips, not trusting my voice just then.

"The smile isn't fake. Neither is the rest."

I caught her up in my arms, pressing kisses to her eyelids, the tip of her nose.

"I believe in this, Emmy: what my government is doing here. I think it will make things better. I think it will make the 'verse better."

The kohl made her eyes look huge.

"I know you do," she said, stroking my face.

Would I feel such sorrow if Londi were to crumble? Hardly. But then slums rarely inspire the same loyalty. Already I loved Sihnon above my homeland, maybe even more than Shadow, site of my ambassadorship: fertile land with its clean lines and honest integrity. Sihnon was all blurred edges.

---


	23. Chapter 23

AN1: Thanks to the Great Grimlock, shaper of plots and purveyor of violence.

AN2: Thanks to Miss Volpe, inventor of cosmo-doms.

---

"Stop laughing this instant."

"I--I'm trying!"

"That's what it's called! That's the name for the 'pinkish part.' "

"Oh, I believe you. I just--just..." He bent forward at the waist, shoulders shaking.

"I'm serious, Mal. Keep this up, and I'm putting on my dress." Her lips twitched. She would -not- smile. "Dammit, Mal. This isn't funny."

"Just...say that word again."

"Mal..."

"Please? I've had a ruttin' sucky day, darlin'."

She sighed, rolled dark-chocolate eyes at the ceiling.

"If I say it...you'll stop laughing?"

"Cross my heart."

She said it quickly, under her breath.

He clutched his ribs, almost crying now.

"Malcom Reynolds!"

"I'm sorry." He blotted the corners of his eyes where the tears were forming. "Ain't you I'm laughin' at, honest."

"There's no one else here!"

"Well, no, there's me. Darlin', I ain't any good at..." He sighed, smiled ruefully. "You are awful pretty, Miz Serra."

His eyes danced down her bare shoulders, taking in the curve of her breasts, the swatch of lace between her thighs. Sweet Ye su, he missed touchin' her.

She smiled in spite of herself.

"Do you want me to start?"

"No, no. I can do this."

He glanced quickly at the door to ensure it was locked. Didn't matter none anyway, whole abbey was long in dreamland.

"Am I allowed to open my eyes this time?"

"Let's not get crazy. Okay, so I'm kissing you now. My mouth's movin' down your neck, suckling at that sweet spot just under your ear. And you, well you're doin' that sexy little whimper thing--yep, that's the one." He was starting to get more than a mite aroused. "Now I'm, uh, kissing your, um...breasts? Yup, definitely doin' some of that." Was a sweetheart, that one: didn't even tease him for stammering. "My tongue...my tongue swirls 'round your nipple and over the..." Dammit. He took a slow, deep breath. "Over the..."

She opened her eyes, gold fires of mirth lighting the dark pools.

"Go ahead." She waved a benevolent hand. "You can't help yourself."

He hung his head, the smirk tugging at his cheeks.

"Areola," he managed, shaking with laughter.

"That's what it's called!"

---

She pounded with the back of her fist.

"Open up."

"I'm sleeping."

"No, you ain't."

"Now how you know that, Kaylee-girl? Could be sleep-talkin' for all you know."

"Uh huh. Well, less you open this door I'm gonna find myself a spare compression coil and shove it up your sleeping—"

"Hell, girl."

She heard the hatch click, pushed in the ladder to descend.

"Well?" he asked when she stood before him.

"Sit."

He raised a brow, scratched idly at the back of his head.

"Now."

He sat wearily, his shorts wrinkled from sleep, his chest bare. He had imprints from the pillow on his cheek.

"Us two gonna have a little chat, dong ma?"

"What's your deal, Lil' Kaylee? Doc miss a spot last night? Can't see why else you'd be actin' such a po fu."

"Don't bullcrap me, Jayne. You and me—we come from the same end o' the 'verse."

"Ass end."

"Maybe. Maybe that's so. Don't mean we gotta act like trash."

"Just 'cuz you went an' married yourself a big city dandy don't mean I gotta—"

"Gotta what, Jayne? Act like a man? Stand up like one?"

"Aw, quit your gripin'. What's it matter to you, anyway…if the doc treats me as somethin' to be scraped off his shiny-ass shoes? Don't change a damn thing."

"Oh, sure. Don't matter a speck. Hell, Jayne, how's it matter, any of it? Way we treat one another. Just 'cuz we're all any of us has. Just 'cuz it's us and Serenity and the Black." Her eyes filled with liquid. He tried to touch her, but she shoved him away. "Dammit, Jayne. Couldn't you just stuck to your whores? Why's it gotta be Simon's little sister?"

" 'Cuz she asked me. 'Please, Jayne, make me feel somethin' ain't pain.' Ai ya, what was I 'sposed to say? 'That's all life is?' I shoulda told her that?"

"Yep. Yep, that's just what you shoulda done. Coulda just told her, Jayne. Coulda just told her life was pain. Weren't no reason to show her."

"Doc thinks he can cure what ails her, that's he can cut the pain outta her with a ruttin' scalpel."

"No, Jayne. Simon don't think that no more. Now he just thinks he failed her. And he's scared outta his skull, scared you're gonna take that last little piece of her heart ain't bruised and bleeding and step on it."

She huffed out a breath, continued ranting.

"You think I don't know you, Jayne? I been with ten guys like you. Big and strong, 'cept on the inside where they're broke to bits. They told me I was pretty and…hell, that was all it took. Never did feel so special as when they was ruttin' in me. And after…well, after I didn't feel so special no more. Wasn't their faults, really. 'Spect I knew what I was getting' for myself…."

His mouth was full of sand.

"Kay—Kaylee—"

"You know, Cap'n might have his faults. Might not say and do what's right in every instance. But he was the first man not my daddy or granddaddy to treat me like a lady and not want nothin' in return. My whole first month he called me, 'Miss Kaylee.'" She smiled at the memory.

"Gorramn sweet story, that. But ain't exactly seein' the relevancy, as I sure as shit ain't Mal."

"I love you, Jayne. Just like you was my own ge ge. Even though you sometimes act that way with other folk, hard and takin' advantage …You weren't never that guy with me. And maybe I ain't real bright…but I didn't for a second think you'd be that guy with River."

For long seconds, neither spoke.

"You're one of the brightest bulbs I know, Lil' Kaylee," he said at last. "But if you've got me pegged as some knight in shiny-armor…well, that's just ruttin' dumb."

She snorted.

"Sex that good, Jayne?"

"I ain't sexin' her."

"I'm sorry, that term offensive?"

"No. Just ain't is all."

"Why her, Jayne?"

Cuz she's here. Cuz she needs me. Cuz you don't.

"Told ya why."

Kaylee rolled her eyes.

"C'mon, Lil' Kaylee. Don't much care how the doc regards me. If'n he thinks I'm trash...well, reckon I can live with that. Figure it'd 'bout kill me though, if'n the two of us stopped talkin'."

"I ain't gonna stop talkin' to ya, Jayne."

"Don't 'spose you're much good at the silent treatment." He tickled her under the arm.

She smiled though it was a sad one.

"Be good to her, Jayne. Make it nice for her. Owe her that much least."

He gave a short nod.

She just shook her head at him, started up the steps.

"He make you happy?" The words tumbled out 'fore he could stop 'em.

She turned.

"Shuh muh?"

"He cares for you proper, treats you like you deserve, says how pretty you are?"

"He does. All of it."

"That's good, Lil' Kaylee. How it should be."

She just gave him another sad smile and kept climbing.

---

Mal sat up slowly, still panting for air.

"That...that was a damn good game."

"Uh huh." She sounded breathless, sleepy but pleasantly so.

"You...good words," he said mildly.

"Thank you." She smiled, cheeks flushed with pleasure. "You were very...eloquent, Mal."

"Eloquent." He grinned. "I do think that'd be a first. Don't reckon it's fair though. Now I just wanna hold you, and you bein' so far off..."

"I want that too." She studied him through the Cortex, taking in the pale skin, sunken circles under his eyes. "You look exhausted, Mal."

"Well, I'm an old man, see." He tugged his suspenders back in place. "You wore me out."

"Mal. We've made love half the night on more than one occasion." Her lips curved. "You didn't suffer so much as a muscle strain."

" 'Haps I was just bein' brave. You know, so as not to ruin your image o' me as a tough guy."

"Oh, and I thought it was because you couldn't get enough of me."

"Yeah. Mighta been some o' that."

"Tell me what's wrong, Mal. You trusted me enough to...do what we just did. Trust me with this too."

"I do trust you. And I will. Just...first gotta get things straight in my own head. Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Alright."

"You, uh...you ever miss it? Bein' a...your job?"

She hesitated.

"Mal, I--"

" 'Sokay. I ain't gonna get mad. Just be truthsome."

"I miss aspects of it.

"Like?"

"Mal, why are you so interested suddenly? You've made no secret of your contempt for my profession."

"Guess I'm just curious. Had a whole life 'fore we met. I'm wonderin' who that girl was."

"She's the same person you know now. And, in truth, I think your past's more mysterious than mine."

"Maybehaps we both oughta make with the sharin'."

She nodded though her expression was conflicted.

"I miss aspects, sights and scents, the way the air felt just before a storm. I miss the women I considered my friends; of course now they'd not even acknowledge my presence in polite society. But I miss a time when we were sisters. I miss House Madrassa, the big, light rooms, the lush gardens. I miss the scent of lilacs outside my bedroom window. I miss Sihnon. " She shrugged a delicate shoulder. "I miss the emotional pleasures of my job, helping others feel comfort, find release. What I don't miss, Mal: I don't miss the sex, and I don't miss other men."

"What's to keep you from gettin' bored? How do ya know you won't tire of me after a spell?"

"There's at least seven shades of you, Mal. One for each day of the week." She smiled. "And, also, well you're pretty good in bed. I imagine I'll keep you around awhile."

"That's good, kitten. 'Cuz with you, I do like bein' kept."

---

"Zoe." Inara smiled. "Come in. I'd offer you something hot to drink, except...well, this is Mal's room."

Zoe grinned.

"Man ain't much for entertaining." She raised a knowing brow. "Does seem to host you often enough. 'Spect you stayin' here in his absence is a comfort to 'im."

"I think so." Inara motioned to the bed, somewhat more inviting now that she'd brought her own linens down. "Please. Sit."

"Won't keep you long. Just had a couple things to speak on. This a good time?"

"Perfect."

The younger woman's cheeks were flushed with something...pleasure? Zoe felt her lips curving. It wasn't hard to guess how Nara and the Captain spent the morning. Was probably a good thing. When one was used to sexing somewhat regular...well, the sudden lack could prove all manner of disturbing. Zoe knew something about that.

"The papers finally came in off the Cortex." She offered Inara a formal-looking document. "Was hoping you'd still be willing to sign."

"...'by conveying my signature below, I agree to assume legal guardianship of the child Raven Alleyne Washburne in the event of her mother Zoe Washburne's death before the child's eighteenth'...Zoe, are you sure?"

"You'd make a good mama, Inara." Zoe smiled easily. "Wash thought so too."

"I--thank you, Zoe." Her eyes scanned the document, glanced up to meet Zoe's gaze. "Mal's name is on these as well."

"Figure the two of you ain't just fooling around now."

"No, I don't suppose we are. Though I don't know that we'll ever...neither of us is exactly traditional."

"Captain might surprise you there. Hang on to those, get 'em back to me when you can."

"I will. Thank you again, Zoe. It's a great honor."

Zoe nodded, hesitated at the ladder.

"Can I ask you a favor, Inara?"

"Alright."

"Kaylee's mindin' my little girl for a spell. Would you come down my bunk in two hours, give me the injection that's sitting on my night stand?"

"Injection? Shouldn't you ask Simon...?"

"Rather not get the doctor involved."

Inara's nose crinkled quizzically.

"I know you can give injections, Zoe. I saw you do that and more before Simon joined the crew."

"Funny thing about being technically dead. Kinda hard to handle a syringe."

Inara's eyes went wide.

"Zoe."

"I ask you a lot of favors, Nara?"

"You mean besides assuming care of your infant daughter?"

Zoe's eyes gleamed.

"Besides that. I need this. I need to touch him." Her eyes were dry, her voice sure and unwavering.

Inara blanched at the pain in the older woman's stare.

"That drug...it isn't a game, Zoe."

"Answer me this, Nara. What if it were Mal? There anything in the 'verse you wouldn't risk to hold him once more?"

"Perhaps my daughter," Inara said quietly.

Now it was Zoe's turn to blanch.

"Please, Nara." She caught the younger woman's hand in hers. "Help me."

Inara nodded shortly. She'd help Zoe find comfort. Wasn't that her role? Comfort-giver. She lowered herself to the bed, waiting for her heart to slow.

---

His was very much a man's room. Man colors, man toys and man edges. A half-empty bottle of whiskey, lovingly stoppered on a shelf. A tube of roll-on deodorant, a deck of well-worn playing cards. A packet of Blue Sun Prophylactic Cosmo-doms, two of which were missing.

His closet door stood open, and she could see his shirts, marching in a neat, if wrinkled, row across the bar. On a lower bar, his pants followed suit. He didn't appear to keep pajamas or underwear.

His bed was unmade, the blanket balled up at the foot, leaving bare the crevice where he kept his guns. Six, shiny, silvery shotguns. She smiled at the image and the implication. He took great care with his weapons. Even as a boy, he believed dangerous things to be deserving of respect.

"Can sit down," he offered, smoothing the thin blanket out over rumpled bedclothes.

"Thank you."

She perched carefully on the edge, hands folding over themselves in her lap. She could -smell- him on the sheets, sweat and soap and something else, something vague and musky. For long, lovely seconds she felt like a girl, very conscious of her wave of dark hair, her soft skin and firm breasts and long thighs. She was conscious of the space between her legs, the way being near him caused it to swell and tingle. She ached to know what new pleasures his touch could conjure. She was also more than a little eager to see his desire for herself, witness how his body bulged with the wanting her.

After a moment, he sat beside her, stretching long legs out before him.

"So." He tapped a rhythm on his thigh.

"Should I take off my dress now?" she asked.

"Wha--I, uh...Hell, girl, don't gotta be me."

She hesitated, let the hem of her dress fall back in place.

"All I meant is--ai ya, if all you want's a man, could get you one. Kid your own age, even. Hell, bet Nara could rec someone willing. 'Magine she knows a boy whore or two worth his dime. But don't you go feelin' like...don't go thinkin' I'm all you can get, dong ma? Pretty kid like you, all smart and...don't think like that." He trailed off, out of stuff to say.

She just blinked at him, those black eyes big and all-knowing.

"You, uh...you got a response to any o' that?"

"Yes."

"Well?"

"Like when you kiss me on the mouth. Let's start there."

"River--"

"Jayne." She employed her resolve face. "No talking."

He nodded solemnly. Using one hand, he caught hold of her wrist, encircled the slender bone with his fingers. He pulled her to her feet with a firm tug, maneuvered her gently between his legs. Holding her gaze, he collected her skirts, slid the fabric up her body. His hands grazed her narrow rib cage, stroked over the sides of small, high breasts. She lifted her arms, allowing him to tug the material over her head. Laying aside the dress, he dropped his gaze, let his eyes take in the rest of her.

He'd seen her bare before, watched her crawl out of a box and fall to the floor shrieking and shaking like a thing weren't human. Like an animal, which in fact was how they'd made her. They turned her into a prize mare, theirs to beat and break and breed. In nineteen years, she'd suffered more than any human creature oughta suffer. Fighting was one thing. Jayne always knew he'd go out fighting. He accepted it as truth, didn't lose much sleep o'er the notion. Long as he fell with a weapon in hand, be it gun or knife or just his swinging cod--well, he figured that was alright then. All that mattered to Jayne was havin' his shot at makin' the other guy bleed. River...well, she'd had that shot taken from her. Weren't kosher-like, way those Academy just tied her up and took. Weren't anything fair about it.

He stood up slow-like, so as not to scare her. Reckon if anyone had call to be skittish it was one had her brain cut into. His hands slid up her neck, fingers fisting in her hair. He tilted his head, stooped down to meet her mouth. It was a nice mouth, hers. Soft peachy lips, the bottom one just full enough to bite. He held her face in his hands and kissed that pretty mouth.

She pressed against him, burrowing into the protection of his arms. Big, warm arms, peppered with coarse black hair, cut with muscles. She stood on tip toe, leaning up into his torso. She could feel him through the rough khaki of his trousers, hard against her soft cotton underwear.

"Swollen," she observed, pressing her palm to his lap.

"Ai ya..."

She smiled and traced his lips with her index finger. He took the digit in his mouth, sucking until the wet heat had her shivering. She laid her hand flat against his face, feeling the rough hair of his beard tickle her palm.

"Oh, ta ma de..." He groaned out her name, arms wrapping around her narrow waist.

Her movements tentative, she trailed her hands down his chest and belly. She drew them up again, dragging his shirt along with her. She traced a jagged, pre-Simon scar with her fingers.

"Pretty," she murmured, lips curving.

Jayne just shook his head.

"If you say so..."

"Take me to your bed, Jayne Cobb."

"If you say so." His voice was rough, his hands gentle as he lifted her up like a doll, carried her the few feet to his bunk. He pressed her down into the blankets, shimmied out of his trousers and lied out beside her.

"I'm gonna try not to hurt ya. Gonna go slow and try like hell not to hurt ya."

She smiled bravely.

"You won't."

Jayne knew otherwise but tried not to think on it just now. He caught her whimper of pain with his lips as he pushed inside her, slid into that tight heat.

"Girl...River." He hesitated, searching her eyes. "You okay?"

"No more pain?" she asked softly.

"Won't be no more tonight," he agreed. Capturing her lips, he began to move.

---

He felt rather than heard the presence: a weight at the end of the bed.

"Nuh muh," he murmured sleepily.

"Time to wake up, Captain."

"Mmm…Nara?"

"Not quite."

He opened his eyes.

"Oh, that's just mean."

"She calls you 'captain'? How…special."

"Oh, jeez. Can hear the sermon now. Blah blah blah, premarital, blah blah, sexual advantage--" The rest of the statement faded into yawn.

Shepherd Book smiled

"I wasn't gonna lecture you, boy."

"Really? Well, that'd be a first."

"You love her. There's nothing sinful about love."

"Now that is funny. I woulda thought love the greatest sin of all."

"You think loving her…accepting her love in kind…makes you selfish. I believe it shows growth. You've come a long way, Malcom."

"One o' your disciples did say as much. 'Fore he handed me a stack of pages big enough to bury a man."

"Don't let it."

"Don't plan to." Mal shrugged. "So fella was my daddy…Alliance lapdog, huh? Mama never said it, not with words. But a part o' me always wondered. Even got the nerve to ask, just 'fore I shipped out for Basic. Was a day or so after my eighteenth birthday. I said, 'Mama, what is it makes you hate him so? He a Fed or sumsuch, one of

them hwoon dan lands down in his fancy boat, makes it his aim to intimidate folk? That why you never speak of him?' She slapped me right in the face. After that, I just figured it was so."

"He was a good man, Mal. Not perfect, but then few men are. And his sins are just that: his. They aren't yours to redeem, boy."

"So you come here to tell me the true tale of the man Quentin Webb?"

"I'm dead, son. Don't gotta answer your questions no more."

"Shepherd, you never answered a damn thing when you was breathin'."

Book smiled.

"Like woman and a certain ship-captain, I am a mystery."

"And mainly I'm content to keep it that way…would like to know one bit though. If you don't got someplace to be…?"

"The dead have a surprising amount of free time."

"I do look forward to the leisure. Answer me this though, Shepherd. 'Fore you took up the cloth…you ever, uh, have relations with my mama? I wouldn't ask, you bein' such the good and virtuous sort, just that Caroline seems to have some odd remembrances in that area."

Book chuckled, unoffended. Maybehaps death enhanced a man's wit.

"I remember your sister. She was certainly…spunky."

"Yeah. Yeah, funny none o' that came up when you was flyin' with me. Rent-free, I might add. By the way you owe me 'bout thirty-six years worth of birthday gifts, what with you bein' my goddaddy bit. Reckon you oughta pay up."

"Isn't my sage counsel a far more valuable commodity?"

"Now that is a laugh. Anyway, quit dodgin' my questions—ain't you been cryptic enough for one lifetime?"

"Surely a couple lifetimes. Mary Reynolds was a fine woman, Captain. I knew her well I think, though not perhaps in the sense you're implying. Losing Quentin…I think we both felt like a good part of our youths died with him. I'll admit there was a temptation. Your mother was quite comely."

"Sweet Ye su, I'm gonna be sick."

Book smiled, slapped the back of Mal's head at the blasphemy.

"Be good, Captain. In my absence, I trust Inara can keep you in line."

" 'Spect she's got more enjoyable ways o' makin' me behave. One more thing, Preacher."

"Hmm?"

"That Companion…Emmy? What sorta woman was she?"

"Esmerelda Webb Fitzgerald." Book smiled, as though the memory came back to him just then. "Emmy was...Emmy. She was quite a lady. Now hadn't you best get some sleep, Captain? I'll leave you to dream of things more pleasant than I."

"I'll do that." Mal fixed his eyes on a stain in the floorboards—blood? "I am sorry, Shepherd. Sorry you went out the way you did. Weren't right you havin' to die for me, nor havin' to take out that shooter 'fore you went."

"Don't worry, boy." Book smiled sadly. "I suspect the debt of payment still lies somewhere in my court."

"There you go, bein' cryptic again!"

"Watch out for your friend. Gideon, is it? He isn't all right."

"Well who in this 'verse is, Shepherd?"

"Kiss that baby for me, too."

"Which one?" Mal muttered, but he was talking to a shadow.

---

He couldn't rest. Couldn't do anythin' 'cept scour those letters. What in the shiny 'verse was he lookin' for? Weren't nothin' but words. Messages from a dead man. Hell, none of it meant a damn thing. He unsheathed another, held the paper up to the lamp.

July 6.

To Malcom:

The day I learned of your conception was the same day Lian Marrim fell three floors to his death. Surely you're wondering about this man, why his murder—for I know now what befell him was no accident—merits remembering. He was not an especially good man, nor a wholly evil one. But Representative Marrim of the Sihonese Congress was an enemy of the Allied Core, a fact that I now believe precipitated his demise.

It was Emmy who told me of the death, sent me the wave at your mother's house on Shadow. I'm ashamed to say she knew where to find me, knew I'd be screwing my mistress for that's what your mother was now. That's what I made Mary the day I wed Esmerelda Slate, retired Companion of the House Vidya and object of my obsession, married her on a sun-drenched hill on Guild land while Derry and Aston stood up as witnesses. I kissed her painted lips, closing my eyes to escape the hesitation in hers. Possessing a Companion is like catching a butterfly with your fingers. There's a power in the act. I should have realized it then, but, ah, Malcom, I was so young. With every sweet swell of power comes an equally potent fear of losing said power. From the moment I married Emmy, I anticipated the anguish of losing her.

Emmy and I fought before I left for Shadow, though strangely our angry words in no way stemmed from my impending departure. No, Emmy had her own reasons to resent me. We both held our bitterness like a prize, locked it away in our secret places, took it out to polish and refine at will.

She waved me in the evening, when little Carly was asleep, when Mary and I were just setting down to tea in the front parlor.

"That man we had for dinner. Marrim. He's dead, Quentin."

I blinked at her, stunned. How can a man eat your chicken one week and be dead the next? The chicken had been dry. I couldn't help remembering that now.

"How did it happen?"

"He'd contracted with a Companion for the weekend. Lilah Sun of House Ushas. She went to fetch breakfast. When she returned, the balcony doors were flung open. His body was strewn out on the lawn."

"Suicide?"

"The coroner ruled it an accident." Emmy's lips trembled. I longed to cover them with mine to still the shaking. "I went to see Lilah this evening."

"Y-you went to the Guild?"

Compassion forgotten, I felt the cool sheen of anger coat my eyes.

"Lilah and I studied together and were quite close once. Besides, I enjoy visiting the Guild. I enjoy remembering." She met my gaze, her own haughty. She enjoyed my discomfort, I realized. It was only a second; then the sadness returned, a torrent of emotion that made her appear even younger than her twenty years. "Quentin, she told me Marrim never would have gone out onto that balcony of his own volition. She suggested they drink their wine in the air the night before. He refused, told her he was deathly afraid of heights and always had been."

"What are you saying?" I wasn't as skilled a performer as she. I had to fight to keep the fear from my tone.

"I'm...I'm scared, Quentin."

I felt my heart beat faster, hard enough to break through my chest. Dear God, what was I doing here? Why wasn't I home with my wife?

"I'm going to call Derry. He'll stay over with you tonight."

"I want you, Quentin."

"I'm sure everything is fine, bao bei. Derry will stay with you tonight; I'll leave first thing in the morning. I miss you, Em."

"Miss you, too," she said breathily.

When I ended the wave, Mary was waiting. She told me about you. We made love all night...

---

It took Mal the better part of an hour to stumble over her name on the Cortex. A glowing feed named her as benefactress of the Osiris City Children's Charity, praised her work servicing orphans or some such. The article was a year old. He'd have to hope her coordinates were current.

"You've reached the recording service of Esmerelda Fitzgerald," a smooth masculine voice informed. "Please leave your message and coordinates after the tone..."

"Uh, mornin'. Ms. Fitzgerald, my name is Malcom Reynolds. Think you knew my daddy," he quipped. "Uh, maybehaps you thought I was dead, if you thought on me at all. But..well, I ain't. I'm at the Southdown Abbey, on a little world called Persephone. Ain't sayin' you owe more anythin'...but I would like to speak to you a spell...ma'am. I'd be willin' to make the trip to 'Siris...or could meet you someplace other. I'll leave that bit up to you..."

---

There was something strangely soothing about working at an abby.

Despite his smallish stature, a lifetime of training and studying had honed his body into a tight, muscular package. Gideon would never equal the children of the Academy in skill or grace, but he liked to think he made a good accounting of himself. The coma had left him far weaker than he'd been in...well, a long while. Simon's considerable abilities aside, Serenity was hardly the optimum setting for rehabilitation. There were no P.T. facilities to speak of, no skilled therapists. Inara seemed to know something of muscle groups. Still, Gideon wasn't exactly comfy asking a whore, even a former one, for advice in such matters. Neither was he naive enough to think Mal would appreciate him soliciting said advice. At the Captain's insistence, Jayne had reluctantly granted Gideon the use of his weights. Running laps around the cargo bay and catwalks had enhanced his stamina some, but his aching biceps left a lot to be desired. He heaved another forkful of dirt, feeling the sting singe his shoulders.

"Don't worry about it, son."

"I'm sorry?"

The Shepherd hoeing the bed next to Gideon's glanced up from his work.

"Gardening is...a special kind of pain." Brown eyes regarded Gideon thoughtfully. "Strength doesn't matter very much; it's a whole different muscle set."

The older man smiled, a well-worn twist of the mouth in a face accustomed to such displays. The dark, weathered skin bespoke many hours of working in a garden, perhaps tending these very strawberries.

Gideon rolled his shoulders, lifted his t-shirt to wipe the moisture from his forehead. In the distance, he saw two figures striding up the gravel path to the rectory. Something about their movements just didn't sit right. Gideon was no Catholic. But even he could see these men weren't parishioners.

"I'm gonna get some water. You want?"

The shepherd smiled his refusal, went back to raking.

Gideon cut through the church, accessing the rectory by the back entrance. The hard stone floors made the stealthy approach tricky, mandated slow progress. Inside the pastor's office, he could hear the rough accents of the newcomers, mingled with Father Marty's gentler tones as the men conversed. Gideon leaned against the wall, listening.

"...should cover this month's payment. And this portion will satisfy the balance for last month's deficit, plus the penalty."

Silence.

"That ain't acceptable, old man."

"Is there a problem with the platinum exchange? I checked my math twice."

"That ain't it," the first man whined. "See the problem is image. You didn't pay what was promised."

"Yeah," the second agreed. "Yeah, we can't let that slide."

Another beat.

"I understood there was a clause in our arrangement with your employer for just this situation, hence the penalty fee."

"Our boss is a man o' morals, see. He gave you a very fine deal, and, well--you ain't holdin' up your end."

"I see." Marty sighed. "Perhaps if we double the penalty fee? Will that amount satisfy your boss's...morality?"

"You bein' snarky with us, old man? Don't think the boss would like that much."

"Please, gentlemen. If you allow me till the end of the day, I'm sure I can--"

"Ain't gonna work, Daddy-o." The first man laughed shortly. "Boss-man ain't exactly what you'd call patient."

"Nope," the second agreed. "Badger...see, he's--"

"--a delusional lowlife with bad taste in minions and worse in hats?" Gideon enjoyed the way mouths dropped as he sidled into the office. He appraised the two men, big in a way that spoke of muscles, not flab. One carried a pistol under his jacket, if the bulge on his left breast was an indicator. The other wore his weapon openly on his hip. "Shaking down the clergy, huh? Guess it's a fine time to be a flunky."

The taller of the two scowled.

"This ain't your business, blondie."

"Best listen to him, Gideon." Father Marty chewed his lips nervously. "You needn't trouble yourself with this."

"Probably not. Probably isn't my business. And clearly I'm delaying theirs. What's on the agenda for afternoon, guys--gonna beat up some school girls?"

"Wouldn't be worryin' over the school girls if I was you," the shorter man hinted.

"Oh, fellas." Gideon smiled. "I'm not worried."

In a quick move, he whipped his leg around, clipping the taller of the two thugs in the temple. The shorter merc shot his fist forward. Gideon swept the blow aside, then reversed to grasp the man's hand. He twisted, easily popping the gun's shoulder out of joint and grabbing his weapon.

While the shorter one collapsed on the floor, Gideon turned his attention to the first thug who, having recovered from the head blow, had his gun out and aiming. Gideon ducked into the hall, waiting just out of sight. When the merc came out running, Gideon swept his feet out from under him, watched with no small pleasure as the man collapsed face-first on the stone. Blood trickled out of his broken nose.

Gideon knelt down beside him, holding the snub-nosed pistol against the downed-man's neck.

"You know, you're already in a church. I kill you now...Badger wouldn't even have to spring for a hearse."

"This is a house of God, son." Father Marty appeared at his side. He laid a smooth hand on Gideon's shoulder.

Gideon rose slowly.

"Get up. Take your buddy and go running back to Badger. Dong ma?"

"That was very Christian of you, son," Father Marty said when they were alone.

"I'm not a Christian," Gideon murmured.

---

Mal walked into Badger's office with no small amount of trepidation. Past dealings with the little man had an annoying tendency to sideways. Mal had to use both hands and a foot to count the number of times the lowlife screwed him and his crew up the pigu. For these reasons, Mal was feeling less than optimistic as Badger's thugs escorted him into their boss's inner sanctum.

Stiffing Mal seemed to be a profitable side job; Badger's office looked considerably nicer than he remembered for previous visits. Even Badger looked a mite more respectable. Well, respectable was a relative term.

"Captain Reynolds. Didn't 'spect to be seein' you any time soon."

"Dirtside on personal dealings." Mal nodded his greeting. "Looks like business has been good to you, Badger."

"That's 'cuz I'm good to business." Badger flashed a toothy smile. "Nice, though, ain't they? This here's hand made on Sihnon." He gestured to a swanky little footstool.

Mal chose to stand.

"Must o' cost you a pretty."

"Did. See those paintings there? Two could buy a heap o' go suh like the one you call home. But you didn't come here to talk interior decoratin'."

"Here to make something right. That incident at Southdown..."

"And by incident you must mean two o' my boys getting roughed." Badger's grin faded. "Your work? No, Mal. Even you ain't that stupid."

"Not me." Mal met the shorter man's gaze. "Fella flyin' with me."

"One o' your crew?" Badger's face weren't gettin' any prettier. "Surprise, that. Thought one o' yours would know better than to mess with a respectable businessman like myself."

"Said he was flyin' with me, Badger. Didn't say he was crew." Careful, Mal. "And we get done here, good chance the only flyin' he'll be doin' is out the airlock." And now for the really sucky bit. "Like I said, I just came her to make things right. Shepherd says he owes you coin. Now I brought that, plus I'm willing to negotiate for the damage done to your men."

"Oh, you're willing, ay? You see, Mal, that's always been your problem. That stick up your gorram pigu. Anyway, what makes you think I want your coin?"

"Coin's coin, Badger. More useful in the long haul than blood, don't you think?" Mal held out a bag. "How's about we just leave it at that?"

"Problem is, Captain...I'm movin' up in the 'verse. Word gets out I can't even run me a simple protection racket...on a church, no less. That doesn't look very good, does it?"

Mal forced himself to look the little man in the eye.

"I understand. Now how 'bout you tell me what it's gonna take to right this?"

"Well, Mal, I might be willin' to take your money. But that ain't enough. There has to be...what's that word? Reciprocity. Yeah."

" 'Spect a heartfelt apology ain't gonna cut it?"

Mal hardly heard the two thugs come up behind him. They caught him under the arms, dragged him out into the foyer.

"Oh, Mal. This is just business," Badger explained as the bigger of the two set to work massaging Mal's kidneys.

"Good to know," Mal ground out.

He wasn't exactly expecting the gun to appear in Badger's hand. But neither was he all that surprised. One good thing about gettin' screwed so often--not a whole hell of a lot surprised you. It seemed a disturbingly long time before he felt the bullet. Then it was all sorts of familiar. Something about being gut-shot that tended to stick in your memory awhile. Mal found himself lying in a heap in the alley, clutching a bloody mess where his belly once was.

---

Simon. She'd tell Simon. In these situations, he was the most levelheaded of them all. He wouldn't panic, nor would he make Zoe's personal business the subject of crew gossip. Simon would know what to do.

Inara walked into the infirmary, walked straight into Kaylee.

"Ouch!" Both girls clutched at their temples. "Sorry!"

"Glad I ran into you...well, not literally." Kaylee grinned and hopped up on the exam table. "Wanted to run this by ya 'fore I hand out copies to the crew."

Inara unfolded the sheet of paper, raised a brow at the heading.

" 'Things We Ain't Telling The Captain About When He Waves,' " she read aloud from Kaylee's scrawling script. " 'Number One, Jayne sexing River; Number 2, Jayne sexing River.'"

Inara raised a brow.

"Thought that one deserved double mention."

"Fair enough. 'Number 3, Simon and Jayne not speaking; Number Four, Serenity needing new bearings on the engine rotors.' Kaylee, I didn't know that either. Is this also the 'Keep Inara in the Dark List?'"

Kaylee giggled.

"Long as we ain't drifting, I figure you ain't interested in the day to day."

Inara smiled gratefully, returned her gaze to the page.

" 'Item Five, Raven maybe saying her first word if by 'duh' she was trying for 'duck.' "

Inara glanced up.

"When was this?"

"Earlier, whilst you an' the cap'n was, um, occupied." Kaylee grinned. "She coulda been tryin' for 'da da', but Zoe doesn't think so cuz Raven liked the penguins an awful lot and thought they was ducks. She kept carryin' her duck book to the cargo bay and pointing at the penguins. Even made Jayne read it to 'em."

"Let's hope for Mal's sake it was just baby-babble. Missing her first word would be bad enough. If her first word was for the penguins..."

"He did seem to begrudge 'em," Kaylee agreed.

Inara nodded, continued reading.

" 'Number Six, The Greenleaf Job; Number Seven; Zoe getting clipped on the Greenleaf Job; Number Eight, Kaylee being a week late--What? Wait. Go back a second, mei mei."

"To the duck part?"

"Not the ducks, Kaylee."

"Inara..." Kaylee bit her lips. "What if I'm...?"

Inara wrapped an arm around the younger girl's waist.

-Oh, go suh.-

---


	24. Chapter 24

He was hallucinating. Probably.

"Are those new suspenders, Mal?" Inara smiled at him, her face bright with desire. "You look so...so swai."

That weren't so crazy. Hell, he was sorta swai.

"Hey, Mal." Jayne walked by, winked. "Nice pants."

Okay. Definitely hallucinating.

He pressed a hand to the hole in his belly, tried to stand. His ankles gave, and he collapsed on his knees.

"Ye su, ta ma de..."

Groaning, he rolled over on his back, held fast to the wound with the weight of his arm. He had a powerful need to pass out just now. The Blackness pressed at his eyelids, tried to slip in through his fingernails and nostrils and the ends of his hair. It was warm and soft, this darkness, just like Nara's hair. Hell, it even kinda tickled like her hair did. He knew how it would smell when it carried him away.

"Wake up, Captain Sir."

A shadow blocked out the sun. One Hawaiian-printy arm rose in mock salute.

"I'm worried about Zoe, Mal."

"Zoe? Wash, you notice the part where I'm bleedin' to death?"

"Come now, Captain. Didn't they teach you to withstand pain in the War?"

"Whadda you know?" Mal muttered. He was in a shitty mood. Must o' been the dyin'. "Get lost."

"We're torture buddies, Mal. This is what we do. Get tortured and...make with the jokes. It's our thing."

"Wash...we don't got a thing."

"Sure we do, Captain! Know what your thing is?"

"Can't say I do, Wash."

"Pain, Mal. Pain's your thing."

"Lucky me."

"Hang on, Captain." Wash crouched down to pat his arm. It was a mite creepifying, but kinda soothing too. "Help's on the way, Mal. Mal? Captain, can you--"

"--hear me?" Gideon, digging his nails into the flesh of Mal's forearm. "Can you hear me, Captain?"

"Ow! Quit pinchin' me!"

"I would if you'd keep your eyes open."

"I hope you're not givin' orders, son. Not on my--"

"--boat. And we're not. On your boat, that is." Gideon hauled Mal to his feet. "Put your weight on me."

"You callin' me fat?" His voice rose at the end. Ai ya, he was hurtin'.

"You're not light." Gideon winced, started dragging them both down the alley. "Make of that what you will."

"You know somethin', kid? If you weren't such an annoying smart ass...well, I'd think you were growin' on me."

"If you live through the night, I'll remind you of that come morning."

They reached the end of the alley. Mal bit back a moan as Gideon half-carried, half-dropped him into the back of the motorized hover-cart. He glanced down at his shirt, well-soaked through with red. He blinked as the world went sideways.

"Mal!" Gideon's fingernails, digging into the sensitive skin of his thigh.

"OW!" Mal blinked, incredulous. "Do you want a punch? You want a punch in the face?"

"Keep talking. When I stop hearing your voice is when I come back here and pinch you in places you really don't wanna be pinched."

"HA! I'd like to see you try."

Gideon just rolled his eyes and took the controls. The hover-cart came alive with a low hum and in seconds they were speeding down crowded streets. The dust flew up to collect in Mal's hair and eyebrows, filled his nose and had him choking.

"Where we headed?" Mal managed, biting his lip to squelch the screams.

"Oh, I was thinking a light dinner, maybe a picture show. Where the hell do you think we're going? I'm taking you to the hospital."

"Over my dead body, are you takin' me there."

"A fair possibility," Gideon admitted.

"You listen to me, kid. We ain't goin' to no hospital."

"You need surgery. You have a bullet in your belly. Someone skilled in such things needs to remove it, Mal."

"You'll do it."

Gideon turned at that, blue eyes expressionless.

"You're insane."

"Have heard that theory. Anyway, ain't so crazy; I can talk you through it."

"Talk me through--Captain Reynolds. Are you seriously suggesting you want to stay awake while I perform my first-ever operation on your bleeding belly?"

"Gideon, what I want and what I do never did seem to coincide."

"I'm not operating on you, Mal."

"Why the hell not?" Arguing was good. He could almost forget his belly was on fire.

"You'd be better off with Inara performing the surgery." Gideon sniffed. "I'm guessing she knows more about anatomy than I."

Mal felt his jaw clench. The pain in his gut grew faint as this new slight took a hold.

"Inara ain't a topic you wanna be talkin' on, son."

"I didn't mean any disrespect. Really, she's a lovely girl. A sweetheart." Gideon twisted his neck to meet Mal's gaze. "You almost forget she's just a whore."

The wrath swelled. He didn't just want to live now; now, he wanted to kill. It was several heated seconds before he realized he was being had. He laughed shortly, the movement making his belly ache.

"Nice try, kid. And I do appreciate the effort, really." His tone softened. "You ain't all bad, you know."

"Christ, you're sentimental today." Gideon shrugged. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were dying. But you're not dying, Mal. Hear me? You don't want a hospital, fine. But I am -not- not sticking my hands in your gut. We'll get you a doctor. A respectable, bribe-accepting medical professional."

"Sounds good," Mal said, weary. "Where we goin'?"

Gideon sighed, jerked the hover-cart around another corner.

"Sunday mass."

---

She awoke choking, wheezing thin strands of air through shrunken lungs. After a moment, she felt Inara's smooth hands on her face, holding back her hair as she retched into a bowl. Grateful, Zoe accepted the proffered glass of water, letting the cool liquid wet her parched mouth and throat. At last, she glanced up, eyes burning as badly as the acrid taste on her tongue.

"Raven?" she whispered.

"Fine." Inara slipped the shawl from her shoulders, draped the crocheted folds over Zoe's shivering form. "Kaylee put her down for a nap. Jayne's keeping a reluctant ear tuned."

Zoe nodded, relief washing over her features.

"Xie xie. Thank you."

Inara just shrugged, one delicate shoulder inching up to buss her cheek.

"I thought about what you said before...how if it were Mal..."

"He's gonna come back, Nara." She smiled weakly. "Captain's a lotta things, but mostly he's stubborn. Won't let nothin' stop him gettin' back here." She rose, clutching the bedframe to steady herself. " 'Sides, you think he'd just give me his ship?"

Inara smiled, a sad one that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I should go. I promised Kaylee...You're certain you're alright, Zoe? Everything went as planned?"

"Shiny as a shiny thing." It was one of Mal's expressions. She found it easier to lie when the words weren't her own.

"I--I'm glad."

"Do me a favor? Tell Jayne I'll be up to relieve him in a few?"

"Of course." Inara hesitated, fingers curling around the rungs. "Take your time, though. I think he's secretly hoping she'll wake up so he can read to her. He's getting very good. He knows almost all the words in the duck book now."

Zoe smiled, trying to infuse her features with a warmth she didn't feel. In fact, she felt almost nothing, her body weightless as a baby bird, weighty as the years spanning before her. She hovered in nothingness, waited for Inara's skirts to disappear up the steps. The sound of the hatch closing broke her reverie. She started to cry then, fat tears that disappeared into the curve of her neck. There was a time when Wash kissed away the wet with his lips. Now she just let them fall.

---

"Hold him down. Dope him."

"You're fine, Mal." Gideon's voice. Mal mighta been more convinced if the boy weren't such an adept liar. "Gonna live to brood another day."

"Gentleman? There's a Miss Serra waving."

"I'll take it," Gideon said.

"No." Mal groaned, struggled to sit. "Don't--"

"I won't, Mal." Gideon touched his arm. "I won't tell her anything."

Mal nodded, grateful. Within seconds, the darkness took him.

---

Mal would know. In a single glance, he'd see everything Zoe wasn't saying. The man could be...well, he could be downright dense. But he seemed to understand Zoe. Those two saw eachother, saw the hidden hurts and buried anguish. They sliced deep through the lies, found the pulsing, panging pain beneath. They suffered a war together, unimaginable loss and sorrow. Inara knew they had tales they'd never share with another soul. Pieces of Mal that would never be hers. She didn't resent Zoe's ownership of those bits of him. She was glad he had another with whom to split the burden, even if that other was other than she.

Once, after sampling too many sips of Kaylee's engine brew, Wash and Inara found themselves ruminating upon the great War of Independence and its many, multifaceted casualties. Mal and Zoe were off on a job; Inara came back from a client to find Wash scratching the bottom of the first bottle. He was a genial drunk, sweet and ebullient.

"Nara. Hey." He poured her a glass, patted the chair next to him for her to sit. "Join me for a drink, m'lady."

She'd smiled then; she smiled now, remembering. She missed him, regretted not just his untimely death but the loss of his presence on the ship. In her first weeks on Serenity, she'd ached for Sihnon while trying to scratch out a feel for her new surroundings. Jayne eyed her with lust, the captain some mixture of desire and distrust, mingling, blooming into self-hatred, hatred of her. She knew now she'd scared him. He hated himself for wanting her, hated her for making him want. Just like she, he dreaded the inevitable end result of all that wanting, tried to guard against the ineludable moment when his insides would tear. Wash's gentle friendship was like balm. He treated her as one of the crew , as an equal.

"Wow," he'd said that day, pretending to grab hold of his heart. "Quite a dress. I'm guessin' you left the colonel in a pool of his own drool."

She took his compliments the way he intended them: harmless and friendly, wanting nothing save her friendship in return.

"There may have been some drooling. How's the wine?"

"Not gonna lie to you, Nara. It's pretty shitty."

"You drank an entire bottle," she reminded him, amusement curving her lips.

"Well, yeah." He topped off both their glasses. "But I'm depressed."

"Depressed? Whatever for?" She made her eyes go wide, gold specks twinkling in the black. "We're parked on an ugly, dust-covered, backwoods, ass-end-of-the-galaxy moon that wouldn't know civilized if it got up on a bar and danced the tango. I just spent the better part of the afternoon servicing a client who regaled me with tales of his rattlesnake hunting and called me 'purty.' We're drinking wine that was fermented in the engine of a spaceship, drinking it out of Bugs Bunny glasses. Exactly which part of this do you find depressing, Wash?"

He grinned, passed her the bottle.

"I think you need this more than I do, sweetie."

She just smiled.

"Can I ask you somethin', Nara?"

"Of course."

"Zoe and me--well, we had a fight. Was kind of a doozy. Hell, you ever seen an Amazon woman when she's mad?"

"Is that your question?" she teased.

"No. No." He took another drink of the fruity, crimson wine.

"Wash...do you know I studied a great deal to be a Companion?"

He shook his head.

"Many subjects. Psychology, sociology. I'm very skilled at reading body language." She shrugged a single shoulder, sipped the bittersweet wine. "Signs, gestures. The sort of thing a person doesn't say with words. I spent years learning to read people, Wash. But even a daft vision-impaired ape can see the love between you and her."

"Well, maybe Jayne can see it. But sometimes I'm not sure..."

"Is this about Mal?" she'd asked, her boldness a surprise to them both.

"She doesn't even hesitate, Inara. 'Chop off your toe, Zoe. Sir, yes, sir.'"

"It isn't that bad."

"It's close." Wash met her eyes, the booze making his swim. "You think they slept together, Nara? Back in the war, when they were hiding from the purple bellies, hiding out in rabbit holes--?"

"Fox holes," she corrected, thoughtful.

"Whatever. I know it got bad, Nara. Zoe--she still has nightmares sometimes."

"Mal does too."

Wash raised a brow, asking the obvious question with his eyes.

"Please." She gave a short laugh. "We both suffer from insomnia. I've found him at this table on more than one occasion, sipping warm milk and staring at nothing."

"That's repulsive--the warm milk part."

"Yes," Inara agreed. She smiled before she could help it.

"Zoe has the dreams just before dawn. Five or so."

"I always find Mal at three."

"You think they ever, you know, sought out a warm body for comfort? Had a moment's passion whilst the shells rained down? Your fancy education able to tell you that, Inara?"

"I--I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Damn right it matters." The fury ebbed away even as he spit out the words. "Jesus. I don't...if she needed him back then, if he helped keep the damn demons at bay...I guess it ain't quite kosher to resent the bastard for that. For keepin' my baby sane."

She patted his hand.

"You're a good man, Wash. Zoe's very fortunate."

"So's Mal." He met her eyes, and for a moment the wine-haze receded in a moment of clarity. "I just hope the hwoon dan realizes it before it's too late."

Stricken, Inara reached out a hand to snag her wine glass, downed the contents in a gulp. Neither mentioned the conversation again.

Sobriety notwithstanding, Wash had been right. In truth, he'd been accurate on a few points that afternoon. But now he was gone, and only one person had a chance of reaching Zoe. She punched in the coordinates of the abbey with shaking fingers.

"Gideon," she said when his face filled the screen. She struggled to smile. "Good morning. Or is it night for you two?"

"You were right the first time."

She nodded, a little bemused. This boy was an odd one. She could sense his discomfort and maybe something stronger--aversion perhaps?--in every stare and syllable.

"I was hoping to speak with Mal a moment."

"Mal's in the shower." Gideon shrugged, avoiding her gaze.

"Showering? Isn't it a bit late? Usually he showers when he wakes up."

"Guess he felt especially dirty today."

"I--I see. Would you give him a message for me? Ask him to wave Zoe."

"Zoe? Is everything--?"

"Fine." She made her mouth soft, her eyes soothing. "If he could wave her tonight though...tonight would be most convenient."

"I'll tell him."

He closed the connection before she could thank him.

---

He couldn't move or speak. From his belly to his toes, he was completely numb. The panic stole over him fast, a sheen of sweat coating flesh. He cracked his eyelids, squeezed them shut again at the burst of blinding white.

"Hush." A woman's voice, cool as the damp cloth sweeping his forehead.

That was sorta funny, her trying to shut him up when he was fairly certain he couldn't speak. With tremendous effort, he raised his right hand, groped around for her wrist. He lifted their joined hands to his lips, hoped she'd catch his meaning.

"Water?" she asked, the mere sound of the word drying his saliva.

Seconds later he felt plastic part his lips. A few drops of liquid trickled into his mouth, wetting his parched tongue.

"More?"

He shook his head, the movement making him queasy. He tried to summon his stinging vocal chords.

"Don't try to speak," she intoned. "Hush, Malcom."

He parted one heavy eye this time, saw a dark head silhouetted against the light. Angel. Inara. He tried to grab her hand again, but she relaxed his grip, settled his arm back at his side. Again she applied the damp cloth to his burning temple, cooling his body, soothing his hot soul.

"Inara," he managed, the name scarcely a whisper.

"Sleep," she entreated and smoothed his fevered temple.

---

When next Malcom Reynolds awoke, he was naked, stripped bare and being sponge-bathed. He was also somewhat aroused.

With whip-sharp speed, his brain snapped back to the Alliance hospital. Oh, sweet Ye Su, no. But, no, this was something other. No restraints binding his hands, not starchy hospital gown. And unlike that sterile cell, this room had windows. He could feel the sun on his aching body, its steady heat massaging sore muscles and bruised flesh. Moreover, the hands pulling the sponge seemed more concerned with sanitizing than stimulating. The whole erection bit was, well, nice, but secondary. He felt warm water drip between his thighs, cringed as he body responded against his will.

He really oughta open his eyes nowbouts, see who was rubbing him down and triggering the embarrassing albeit unintentional reaction in his nethers. For long wistful seconds, he let himself dream that it was Inara. And if he were another man, one considerably less star-crossed, that notion might just hold water. As it was--he let out a sigh--Alliance prison guard, prolly. An ugly one.

Very reluctantly, he opened his eyes. Huh.

"Uh, hi."

Gray eyes glanced up, smiled before that full red mouth. She straightened, sleek black hair bobbing around an exceptionally-crafted face.

"Malcom. You're awake."

"Seems I am." He tried to shift his body to hide the hard-on, which was becoming a mite uncomfortable. "And you are, ma'am?"

She smiled again, obviously unruffled. Was a shame. He wouldn't mind watching a blush color that milk-pale skin. Watch it, Mal, he chided. You, sir, are taken.

"Forgive me, Malcom. You were, shall we say, indisposed when I arrived. We were never properly introduced."

"You, uh...you my doctor?"

"I'm your stepmother." She found his hand on the bed, shook it with a firm grip. "Esmerelda Fitzgerald. Please, call me Emmy."

---

He felt considerably more composed now that he was wearing pants, even if they were a pair of gray flannels belonging to Shepherd Marty.

"I didn't think you'd come," he admitted, eyeing the woman at his bedside.

"You have his voice. Now that I've seen you with my own eyes, I realize there are many intriguing similarities." Her lips curved slightly at the last.

Mal nodded, feeling the tips of his ears burn.

"Let's ride right past the part where you detail 'em. I, uh, I got the letters. Good reading, those."

"Quentin had a flare for it: letter writing. I used to tease him, say for a twenty-sixth century man, he had quite the epistolary soul."

"Well, I ain't much for fancy words. Reckon I'd disappoint him there."

"Malcom." She stroked his cheek, and he had to force himself not to squirm from the touch. Not that it didn't feel nice. Just...was like bein' groped by a ghost. A ghost who looked on him with love meant for another. "I can assure you, he wouldn't be disappointed."

"No offense, Lady. But I never met you before twenty minutes ago. How is it you know so much of me?"

Now she did blush, a soft, pretty pink that filled her face.

"You're Quentin's son," she said simply. "I had you followed."

" 'Scuze me?"

"I have a very loyal, very discreet investigator. He kept me informed of your comings and goings. I didn't interfere, only kept abreast of your activities. Serenity Valley, your purchase of the firefly." She hesitated, eyes on her manicure. "Miranda. You look disturbed."

"No. Just kinda abashed. Thought I was stealthier 'n that."

"My sources are very good," she assured, lips twitching.

"Huh."

"I have to say, I was intrigued when the Companion signed on to fly with you. Even as one far-removed from that way of life, I'd heard the name Inara Serra. She was on the track for house priestess when she left with you."

"Why'd you leave the Guild?" he asked, eager to discourage this line of questioning. Ai ya, he didn't want Inara dragged into this.

Emmy seemed surprised.

"I left to marry your father, of course.

"Of your own accord?"

"Not exactly. I was...I guess you could say I was a gift. A gesture of goodwill from the Guild to the Allied Core. And, more importantly, a bribe and a distraction for the bright, young senator Quentin Webb, a boon for the Alliance save that pesky moral code of his, that tendency to dig. I was beautiful then: young, taut flesh, thick flowing hair." She smiled, lost in the remembering. "A heady, flawless male fantasy. I loved my life, being Companion. I loved the power over the men, the powerlessness of watching them walk away. Had the political climate been something other, had the Alliance never come to Sihnon--I imagine I'd still be there now, a priestess perhaps, living at Vidya and watching the lilacs bloom every spring...

"We both fell in love, Mal. We had nothing in common, were sprung from widely disparate worlds. And yet we could talk for hours. And the sex..." She trailed off, sensing his discomfort. "I didn't understand what I was feeling, resented those feelings. But I loved Quentin. As much as I was able, I loved him. Legally, I could have refused. Practically--practically, I had no choice at all." She shrugged. "It's complicated, Malcom."

"Seems I got the time just now," he said quietly.

"Alright. But I must insist on quid pro quo. I have a few questions myself for Quentin Webb's only son."

He raised a brow.

"You already seen me naked, Emmy. And I don't just mean the sponge bath bit. You been doggin' me for decades."

"I know the what, Malcom. The whys are somewhat more elusive."

"You can have your answers when I get mine. I wanna know how my daddy died. "

"No, Malcom." She looked sad. "You want to know why."

---

She'd fallen asleep to the rain. When she awoke, the rain had stopped. She lounged in bed a few moments, drowsy, disoriented. It was still night, the room bathed in darkness. Why was she awake?

"Emmy." Strong hands, shaking her shoulder.

"Quentin." Her heart thudded in her chest, and she reached over to hit the lamp. "You frightened me."

"Sorry, sweetheart. Oh, God, I'm sorry." He sat beside her on the bed, fully dressed save his shoes. His clothes were drenched, dark hair dripping down over his neck, water droplets disappearing under the collar of his shirt.

"Ren si de fo zu, what happened to you?"

"It's raining." He looked sad. "It almost never rains in the great City of Sihnon."

"Get undressed." She started in on the buttons. "You're soaked right through."

"I can't." He fought her hands away. "I'm going out again."

She twisted his wrist to get a look at the watch.

"It's four in the morning, Quentin."

"Yeah. Emmy, let's make love."

She rolled her eyes.

"You're drunk."

"Oh, Jesus, I wish I was drunk. Make love with me, Emmy. The way we used to, when I'd visit you at the Guild."

She'd started then; he almost never spoke of her time as Companion. The sapphire on her ring finger came complete with a powerful sense of shame. After the wedding, he realized as though for the first time all the men she'd lain with before him. On her flawless white flesh he saw handprints.

"We aren't those people anymore," she murmured, not quite meeting his gaze.

He jerked her chin around, his fingers more violent than she thought possible from the man.

"Let's try. Dear God, I want you once more the way we were. Before I ruined you."

"Quentin." Incredulous, she stroked his face, met guarded eyes that used to exude idealism. "I'm fine. Ai ya, look at me. See?"

"I took you away from everything you knew, forced you to be something, someone, other."

"You loved me," she said softly.

"I loved you so hard I killed you. You and Mary, both."

He never spoke of -her- by name. It incensed her, triggered a raw, throbbing need.

"I want you, Emmy. Ai ya, I need you." He palmed her breast, one smooth thumb dipping down to rub her nipple through her nightdress.

He kept most of his clothes on while they made love. After he kissed her, told her he loved her and left her.

First thing in the morning, they brought his body. They beat the milk man by a good half hour.

Aston Fitzgerald said he'd insisted upon it, demanded that Esmerelda see Quentin before the autopsy. He cried harder than she at the bullet holes in Quentin's coat.

---

When she finished, they sat in silence, Mal's brain working to absorb the many curious parallels betwixt himself and the father he never knew. The Companion part alone was grounds for a few years therapy. The bit where Emmy even favored Nara--well, that was downright unsettling. All things considered, him getting excited earlier weren't so confounding. Hell, woulda been an oddity if he -hadn't- felt something. Yep, he was gonna stick with that line o' reasoning.

"Malcom?" Emmy smiled. "I fear I've embarrassed you. This is becoming habit."

"N-no." He shrugged. "I'm okay."

"You're blushing."

"Yeah, well. I do that. So what happened that night? His letters--made it seem like he knew someone was after him. Was it the Independents? Those who didn't much care for Alliance meddling? They put a bullet to him?"

"That's what I thought. Aston assured me it was so. And I believed him. He adored Quentin, mentored him."

She looked away, something new in her eyes: something like guilt.

"You married him. Aston Fitzgerald. After my daddy died, you married the man."

"I couldn't go back to the Guild. In truth, I didn't know what to do. No one expects to be widowed at twenty-two."

"That's gotta be tough."

"Yes. It was tough. Especially when Derry disappeared. He took your father's death hard. It...changed him."

"They were close, huh?"

"More like brothers. When Derry left, I was so very alone. Aston would come by the house, bring food. We didn't make love for a year, Mal. He was very...understanding."

"But it wasn't the Independents. Was it?"

"No," she said. "It wasn't."

"What happened?" His voice sounded flat, even to his own ears.

"Years later, I found information on my husband's private source box. There was a trail, financial records linking him to Quentin's murder. The Alliance ordered your father's death. You see..." She hesitated, her voice grown hoarse. "You see, Quentin had stumbled upon some information. He believed in unification, Malcom. He believed it was the best thing for every world. But he had his limits. Murder, for example. Murder was a limit."

"Whose life was he tryin' to save? Goin' out in the rain that night. Who was it the 'Liance wanted dead?"

"A representative in the Sihonese Congress. A man who spoke out against unification. They meant to assassinate him before a key vote. Quentin learned of this and tried to stop it. It wasn't the first murder; there were others, many."

"Politician at the Guild. One fell to his death?"

She nodded.

"Yes. Even now, I don't know all the details. They're buried, layers and layers of lies." Her face changed, bitterness infusing her eyes, marring their brilliance. "But I know Aston was involved. My second husband was what you'd call a believer, Mal. He believed hard enough to kill over it."

"He's dead now?"

"Yes."

"Good. How long ago was that? After you learned what he was?"

She smiled darkly.

"He died because I learned what he was."

"Sweet Ye su. You...?"

"Yes."

"How? How'd you do it without the Alliance knowin'?"

"We Companions have our ways." She giggled, sounding very young suddenly. "Incentive to treat Miss Serra with proper respect..."

"How'd you know me and her was--?"

"Malcom." A soft smile, her hand patting his knee. "You called out her name in your sleep."

"Oh. Huh."

"Mal, listen to me. I don't have all the answers you seek. But I know who would. He may be the only one still breathing who does."

"Don't 'spose you have his coordinates?"

She laughed shortly.

"I haven't seen Amos Kane in years."

"Amos Kane?"

She frowned.

"That's what I said."

"Just checking." Sweet, Ye su. There were more 'n thirty worlds in this solar system. How's it he kept meetin' the same folk? "My daddy knew Amos Kane?"

"Intimately, Malcom. Amos, Derrial and your father were like the three muskateers." She snorted. "The big three when it came to rising young senators. After Quentin's death, the senate factioned off into halves. Amos joined the Independents, Derry went with the loyalists. Kane was a key figure in coordinating Browncoat war efforts in the coming years."

"What's Book's end in this? How's he wind up supporting those what killed my father? And then, how'd he come to drop 'em all and take up the cloth?"

"The answer to that question, Mal, would interest me greatly."

Mal nodded.

"I'll be sure to let you know if'n I find out."

"Are you alright, Mal?" She smoothed his hair, the gesture surprisingly motherly in its warmth.

"He tried to tell the truth. He tried to expose them, and it cost him his life."

"Yes." She bent forward and kissed him on the mouth. Her lips were soft and warm. That bit was considerably less motherly. "Be careful, Mal. Don't follow too closely in your father's footsteps."

"Never did plan to."

"Take care of yourself. You're too pretty to have all those scars."

She left him gaping in her wake.

---

She confessed to it pretty quick. Musta been feelin' powerful guilty to admit it all so easy. That thought gave him some comfort, even as the worry made him mean.

"What the hell were you thinking, Zoe?" He waited, face twisted, eyes at once fierce and hauntingly ragged. "Well?"

"I'm sorry, Sir. Thought that last bit was rhetorical. Did you want an answer?"

"Zo-e!"

It was more snarl than human speech. No-nonsense ready-for-battle Malcom Reynolds. She didn't flinch, just met his gaze unwavering.

"Guess I was thinkin' 'bout him holding me. Sir," she added for good measure, or perhaps just to rile him.

"You think now's a good time to sass me, Zoe? Do ya?"

She gave a short laugh, her nose crinkling. For a long, terrifying seconds he thought she might cry.

"Go to bed, Mal."

He almost smiled then, almost chuckled at the irony. Hearin' Zoe call him by name shocked even more than learnin' what she'd done to herself...what she coulda done.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do on my own boat!"

"Course not, Sir. Except you ain't on your boat. Been too busy gettin' holes blown in your belly."

"And I'm thinkin' you got a few in your head. Dream-humping your dead husband? You think that's a bright course? Expect that one'll end well? Ai ya, Zoe. Figure that big wang ba dan in the sky as the merciful sort? That he believes you and Wash deservin' of a few postmortem conjugal visits?"

"Don't reckon God's got anything to do with it, Sir."

"Well? How was it, Zoe? Don't skimp on the details. Dream-hubby hit the spot?"

"Wash didn't show."

Mal hesitated, prepped to rant.

"Sorry?"

"Wasn't there. Weren't no one there."

He dug his knuckles into his temple, rubbing at the pressure points. His anger ebbed away like ugly storm clouds after a long day's rain.

"You was just...?"

"Waiting." Waiting in the ether for Inara to pull her out.

Sighing, he lowered himself to the bed.

"Zoe. I--"

"Sir? There's some boundaries you and I best not cross."

He nodded.

"Yeah, someday we oughta make a list o' those. Deliverin' each other's critters is goin' right at the ruttin' top, too. Next rugrat you birth--I wanna be gettin' drunk at the nearest bar."

"Guess this ain't the time to tell you 'bout bein' my baby's goddaddy."

"Dammit, Zoe. Well, 'spect it all averages out, considerin' that time you had to suck the snake venom from my leg."

"That never happened, Sir."

"Yeah, but it'd make a hell of a story if it had."

"Sir?"

"Yeah."

"You think Wash'll forgive me?"

"For what, Zoe? Not dying?"

"Not being brave. Almost orphaning our daughter. Leavin' her with Jay-"

"Stop it. Ai ya, you're talkin' crazy. This is Wash we're talkin' 'bout. You know, I once heard the man say there ain't a spot on you he wouldn't put his tongue."

"Wash told you that?"

"Well, no. Told the Alliance actually--"

She raised a single brow, a trick he'd always admired.

"Sir?"

"You know, the whys and hows ain't really important. Point is, Wash loved you. Don't reckon death or what happens after could alter that much."

Zoe raked his body with a doctor's passionless perusal, noting the half moons under his eyes, the indigo bruises that bulls eyed his kidneys.

"That Badger's work?"

"Mostly those loyal lackeys of his. See, fine, upstanding gentleman don't much like gettin' their hands dirty. Though he did condescend to pullin' the trigger. Mighty big of 'im."

"We'll just kill him the once then. Should be resting, Sir. "

"Yeah." Mal yawned, as though remembering just then how fatigued he was. "Hey, how's my ship? Everything shiny?"

"As a shiny thing."

"Really? No squabbles or shootings or psychotic episodes?"

Zoe smiled.

"Captain. Don't you trust us?"

"Well." He shrugged. "More 'n Badger."

"Are you ready to come home, Sir?"

Home. That sounded all manner o' nice. Home was Kaylee's smile and Simon's sarcasm. Home was his albatross at the helm, Zoe at his side. Home was Inara's arms and the little chick's big brown eyes. And then there was Jayne.

"I didn't find 'em."

"Don't mean you won't."

"Jesus, Zoe." He sounded ragged. "I don't even know where to look."

"None of us is giving up, Sir. And--point of interest--we do happen to have a psychic on board."

"Knew I picked up her and big brother for somethin'. Come get me, Zoe. I miss my ship."

"Your ship?" She smiled. "I think you mean -my- ship, Captain."

"Oh, you are just askin' for a beating."

---

Mal watched his little Firefly light the night sky as she floated down for a landing behind the abbey. Oh, but she was a sweet sight for tired eyes and aching belly-wounds.

He'd bid Gideon goodbye hours ago. Kid was gonna return the Champion to Bellerophon, lest they needed it for some future mischief. Havin' an Alliance boat in their clutches could prove all sorts of useful. Gideon would give the Champion over to Kane for safekeeping, and Serenity would pick him up in Sweet Leaf sometime next week. Probably. Mal smirked. He reckoned he would pick up the kid after all. Looked like he had business on Bellerophon.

He circled her once first, checking for bruises, dents in the exterior. Seemed like Zoe'd kept his girl in good repair. He lumbered up the ramp, feeling like an old man. Ai ya, he was an old man.

The crew met him in the cargo bay. He thought they looked damned good. A pretty sight, his crew. His gaze fell on Inara. He didn't go to her right off. He was too afraid he'd take her right there, take her in front of everyone. With all too vivid visuals, he could see himself hugging the breath out of her, dragging her to the floor of the cargo bay and having his way with her. She seemed to understand, eyes big and soft. They said his name, wordless, over and over.

He nodded his head at the group by way of greeting, starting for the stairs. On the way, he passed Kaylee, squeezed her hand.

"Missed you, Cap'n."

"Missed you all too," he murmured, continuing up the stairs.

---

They ate a quick dinner soon as they were out of the world.

Raven whined till Mal lifted her from her highchair, settled her in his lap at the table.

"Hey, Little Chick. Kid got big," he noted.

Zoe nodded, a smile playing at her lips.

"Duh. Duh." Raven grasped a handful of his hair in her small fist. "Duh."

"Aw, Cap'n." Kaylee beamed. "That's so sweet, she's tryin' to say duck."

"Yeah? That's kinda--wait, why's she callin' me a duck?" He lifted her up so their eyes were level. "I ain't a duck, darlin'. I'm the captain. Dong ma?"

"Duh." She mashed her fingers into his mouth.

"Now 'haps you're a mite muddled, Little Chick. Got good reason, given your nickname...and your Aunt River's. Ruttin' penguins didn't help none either." He kissed her little palm. "Now can call me Captain or Mal, but ain't gonna be known as Uncle Duck."

"Duh duh." Her tiny fingers played with the strap of his suspenders.

"Aw, hell. Uncle Duck it is."

"Ain't sayin' duck, Sir." Zoe stared at a spot above his head. Her eyes were enormous. "Duh duh ain't duck."

Mal looked blank.

"Shuh muh?"

"Oh!" Inara murmured. She turned knowledgeable eyes on her lap.

"Gosh!" Kaylee put a hand to her mouth. Tears collected at the corners of her eyes. "Da da. Cap'n, she's callin' you daddy!"

"What? Why would she...?" He trailed off, recognition dawning.

"Excuse me." Zoe stood quickly, backed away from the table.

Mal watched her go, contemplating life and all its little injustices.

---

She didn't say a word, just watched him with those huge, hurting eyes. Wo de tian ah, he hated bein' the one put that look there.

"Ain't but a bug bite, honey."

She smiled but it was false, feigned for his benefit. With trembling hands, she unbuttoned his shirt, spread the tan halves over his chest. One gold-tipped finger reached out to trace the bandage spanning his belly. He'd have a new scar when the doctor removed the gauze, an angry red line to join its peers. In a year it might fade to white, blending into the jagged landscape of his chest, one scar scarcely distinguishable from the next. But the memory--ai ya, they'd be stuck with -that- shiny little vision awhile longer. She saw him when she closed her eyes, harmed, hurting. She wondered how long he'd lain there in the street. Did he think he was dying? Did he think of her?

"Don't even hurt," he assured seeing the strain on her face. He cupped her chin, tilting it up so their eyes met. "I'm fine."

Inara turned away, trying to blink away the image of him bleeding.

"This time," she said quietly.

"The now's all any of us ever has. Inara." He caught her wrist, turned her back to face him. "Hey. You think you're gettin' rid o' me this easy? Not a chance."

"Stop being cute," she said crossly, struggling to evade his arms. "I'm upset with you."

"Upset, huh?" He held her firmly, trying to ignore the squirming. "Well, we can't have that. Guess I'm gonna have to prove myself useful."

"Just leave it, Mal. I'm not in the mood."

He winced, wounded by her tone more than the words themselves, and released his hold.

"Okay, guess this is a problem won't be solved with my stunning good looks. 'Sokay, always knew I'd encounter one eventually."

"How can you make light of this? You almost died, Mal. Again!"

"What would you have me do, Nara?" He felt the heat rush his face, fury coloring his tone red as her nightgown. "Me gettin' gut-shot ain't exactly new territory. You knew what my life was, knew it long before me and you took the tumble. I didn't keep that from you."

"I know you didn't, Mal." Her voice softened. "Still, that hardly makes each new battlewound easier to stomach. Do you know how these last two months were?"

"I surely do, sweetheart."

"How were they, Mal?"

"Lonely. Ai ya, was the loneliest I been in a long while. I think I missed you in every way you can miss a person. Missed talking and fighting. Missed kissing and touching...what comes after the kissing and touching. Hell, Nara I even missed sleepin' next to you. And I came in here of a mind to tear your clothes off and show you all that missing firsthand."

She lifted his hand from his side, spread the long, slender fingers to cover her heart.

"I think I'll be shot one day."

Mal tightened his palm over her breast.

"Not so long as I'm breathing, bao bei."

She just shook her head.

"Then you'll know how it feels."

He blinked, wondered whether the fight was over.

"You still sore at me?"

"Yes," she said, lips curving softly.

"Furious?"

"Fuming."

"Fuming, huh." He dipped his head to kiss the hollow of her throat. "That's sorta like steaming, ain't it? You sayin' you're hot for me, Nara?"

She tilted her head back, allowing him better access to her neck. Her hand fisted in the soft brown of his hair.

"I would perhaps describe my feelings as heated, yes."

"Let's see if I can't make you burn." He caught her around the waist, dragged her up on tip toe to meet his lips. "Oh, sweet Ye Su, I missed the kissing," he murmured into her mouth.

She opened for his tongue, tasting black coffee and something simply Mal. His hand slid down her chest, clutched possessively at her breast. She made a sound like a whimper as his thumb teased the nipple to a sensitive point.

"Mal." She tore her mouth away, only giving him the incentive to kiss down her neck, nibble his way over her collarbones. He caught the straps of her nightgown with two fingers and in one, slick motion dragged the satin to her waist.

She had to bite her lip to keep from moaning as he eased her down on the bed, lowered his mouth to her breast and caught the stiff nipple on his tongue.

"Mal," she tried again. Her eyes fluttered shut as he suckled her, one hand fisting in her long, tumbling, curls, the other sliding between her thighs. His hair tickled the tender space between her breasts as he worked his mouth over one swollen peak before sliding his attention--and tongue-- to the other. "Mal, Simon says we shouldn't..."

"Hush." He kissed her belly, quick little lip brushes that singed the flesh. "Simon says, Simon says. Never did like that game."

"What if you hurt yourself?" She tried to sit up, found her hips pinned to the bed.

"Bao bei, I'm already hurtin'."

She smiled.

"I wasn't referring to the problem in your pants, Mal."

"Pullin' a couple stitches is the least of my troubles. If I don't have you...well, I think I might die."

He grinned, that half-smirk that made her melt. She tried to look stern.

"You should be resting. I could make you tea, find a film feed off the Cortex. We could...cuddle."

"That does sound mighty tempting. Tell you what: we can cuddle after I ravage you." He tugged her panties down to her knees, pushed up the nightgown so it rested in a belt of scarlet silk around her waist.

"I'm gonna go down on you now, Nara. Less you got some objection?"

Her eyes went wide.

"That's playing dirty."

"Kitten, you're sleepin' with a criminal."

"Oh, right." She fell back weakly at the first lap of his tongue, grasped at the sheets for support. "A! tian na!"

He massaged her thighs as his mouth worked over her, lips encircling her nerve bundle, tongue plunging deep. Her body was humming, every doubt spurned, every fear forgotten, every instance of unease quenched by this sweet, unbearable pleasure that came upon her in waves.

"Mal. Mal, Mal, Mal."

His name on her lips was more than a mite arousing. He tried to focus on her taste instead of the painful tightening in his trousers. Trouble was the two were so hopelessly intermingled. He weighed his desire to watch her orgasm--the gentle quiver of her skin just before climax, the way she gazed upon him after, eyes soft and unguarded-- with an increasing urgency to be embedded in her heat. He was a selfish man; he'd have to have both. He swirled his tongue around her center, lust punching his belly as she writhed over the sheets. Huh. Those weren't his old threadbare linens. 'She musta switched 'em for hers' was his last conscious thought. And then he was too caught up in watching her. All the beauty in the 'verse. And she was his.

"Are you bleeding?" she asked when she could speak again.

He glanced down at his belly.

"Nope, but I ain't through tryin'." He stood to unbuckle his belt, eased the trousers over his swollen nether-region.

"Let me," she entreated.

He stepped forward so she could take his hand, tug him horizontal. She hovered over him, nails piercing his hips as she dragged his underwear to his ankles. She eyed his arousal, eyes coy, mouth soft.

"Miss me?" she asked sweetly.

"What gives you that notion? You gonna bed me or just sit there starin'."

"I'm serious, Mal: no thrilling heroics. You are to lie there and let me do the work, dong ma? I'd prefer not to spend the next hour holding your hand while the doctor re-closes your wound."

"Mouthy little wench," he managed before she lowered herself onto his length. He groaned long and low, catching her hand in his, intertwining their fingers as she stretched to take him into her. She fit him like gloves: soft, silky-warm ones, like nothing he'd ever owned. He thrust his hips up to fill her, smiled as she rolled those pretty eyes at the ceiling.

"You promised to behave," she chided.

He raised his brows, pressed his thumb between her thighs.

"Oh, God, Mal."

"Inara." Her name on his lips sounded like a prayer. Hell, he was feelin' sorta holy his own self.

"Mal." She swiveled her hips in slow, languorous circles, bringing his fall about gently. When he came, he was whispering endearments, those Prussian blue eyes rolling back with pleasure as he spilled himself into her.

He held her after, her small, rounded curves tucked tight against his torso. This, Inara bound up in his arms, was true Serenity.

"Hey."

"Are you bleeding?" she murmured, drowsy.

"Nah."

"Then go to sleep."

"I will. In a minute." With his lips, he grazed her temple. "Gotta tell you somethin' first."

"I'm listening," she said warily.

"I love you."

He felt her nestle closer.

"I love you, too."

He fell into restful slumber for the first time in two months.

---

They lingered over breakfast the following morning. Mal gave the crew a reluctant accounting of what transpired on Persephone.

"Badger's a problem, Sir. Knows too much."

"Ai ya, Zoe." Mal mimed a shudder. "Throw on some blue gloves when you say that."

"Nope, Zoe's right."

"Got somethin' to add, Lil' Kaylee?"

"Every time we deal with him, it goes bad. Wouldn't pay us our wages on the derelict transport gig. Then there was the ruffly dress job."

"The ruffly—Kaylee, when did I put you in charge of job namin'?"

"She's right, Mal." Inara laid a hand on his thigh. "You could have been killed in that duel."

"Not to defend our favorite crime lord, but I tend to blame Ath for the stabbing bit. Want I should muss up his face some more?"

"I'd rather you refrained," she said sweetly.

"Liar, liar, crime lord on fire." River smiled.

"Um, guys?" Simon glanced around the table. "Can we focus perhaps?"

"Froofy dresses aside, the man can't be trusted." Zoe met Mal's gaze. "Badger's the one turned us over to the Tams. And…."

"Gideon," Jayne growled.

"Cora 'swell," Mal muttered, fixing his eyes on his hands.

"Bad people tend to find us regular," Kaylee murmured. "An' every time we 'wave Badger—"

"—we're takin' a risk," Zoe finished.

"You all don't gotta convince me that Badger's a bother. I got me a smartin' belly wound by way of reminder. Just that…figure I've enough blood on my hands for one lifetime. Maybe a few lifetimes. Still, lowlife should be taught a lesson. Can't just run about shootin' folk."

"Lest you got a good reason," Jayne chimed.

"Well, yeah," Mal agreed. "I do believe we owe that man a beating."

"Let me handle this, Mal."

"What was that, Nara?"

"You're all occupied with more pressing matters; leave Badger to me" She smiled darkly. "Companions have ways of handling men who prove troublesome."

"Inara. Not to sound like I'm layin' out orders…but no way in hell my lettin' you near that psycho. In fact, you keep talkin' crazy, I'm like to lock you in my bunk whilst we're in flying distance."

"That why she's always in your bunk, Mal?" Jayne grinned lewdly.

"That a topic you wanna discuss, Jayne? Sleeping arrangements?" He pushed back his chair, anticipating the way his knuckles would sting upon contact with Jayne's face.

"Mal." Inara dug her nails into his thigh.

"Ow!"

"Sit down, Captain." Simon clapped a hand on Mal's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Doc. Did you just give me an order and then touch me?"

"She's my sister. If anyone's to pummel Jayne…."

"Now that's funny, Doc. That's funny 'cuz way I see it, you ain't been 'handling' the situation at all."

"That's 'cuz it ain't his place."

"Why, thank you, Kaylee—"

"Ain't yours neither, Cap'n."

"This is my boat, Lil' Kaylee. Mine. And that means—"

"It doesn't mean you can control everything that happens, Mal."

"Inara, I'm just tryin' to protect—"

"Children!"

They all glanced up. River stood at her place, hands on hips.

"-I'm- nineteen. And -I- think you're all being immature. What does that tell you?"

"River—"

"Simon, shut up." She shoved in her chair. "I love you. Love you all. But, sometimes you're all such… biao zi de er zi! Stay out of my life!" She rushed from the room.

"Girl, wait." Jayne shoved back his chair and stomped after her.

"Well," Simon said when everyone had been silent awhile. "That was—"

"Yup," Kaylee agreed.

"Huh," Mal said. "Well, one things for sure, Doc. Seems you got your wish after all. Kid's finally actin' like a normal teenager."

"Reckon she'll be tellin' us to drop dead soon enough." Zoe sighed. "Makes me sorta glad my baby can only say 'duck'."

"She wasn't callin' me a duck!" Mal protested.

Kaylee sighed.

"Oh, here we go again."

---

Breathless, Inara burst into the darkened infirmary to find Kaylee waiting on the sofa. The girl looked so terribly forlorn, one teddy-bear patched thigh bent over the other, eyes wide and worried.

"I'm so sorry, mei mei." Inara crouched beside her, rested her hands in Kaylee's lap. "How are you?"

Kaylee just grinned.

"You and the Cap'n get reacquainted some more after breakfast?"

Inara smiled, cheeks still flushed with pleasure from their impromptu joining. In truth, she couldn't hold Mal wholly responsible. She'd fairly attacked him that morning, sliding down his sleeping body to take him, already well-aroused, into her mouth. She stirred him with warm, slippery-wet kisses, had him moaning before he opened his eyes. He'd hauled her up his body with a violence designed to excite. He pressed her down into the blankets, explored her body with rough hands.

"Mal." She whimpered as he latched on to her nipple, three nimble fingers plunging inside her. "Oh, God. Mal, be careful. Your wound--"

"Bi zui," he growled. With a long, shuddery groan, he buried himself to the hilt in her heat. She clamped her legs around his waist, half sobbing as he thrust into her again and again.

After breakfast, they didn't even make it to the bed. He took her against the wall, their lovemaking a parallel to that frantic encounter two months ago. He was leaving her then, leaving Serenity. Now he was coming back to her.

After she was sated, sore but pleasantly so. And she was late. Ai ya, she'd meant to meet Kaylee half an hour ago. She rearranged her clothes and, bussing a kiss over Mal's cheek, hurried to the infirmary. Repentant, she collapsed beside Kaylee on the sofa, stroked a gentle hand over the girl's hair.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. Mal's feeling a little--"

"Horny?"

"I was going to say amorous." Her eyes twinkled with mirth. Ai ya, she could still feel him inside her. "But horny works."

"Not nothin' wrong with horny," Kaylee agreed.

Inara rose, tugged the younger woman up by the hands.

"Ready to be stealthy?"

"I can be stealthy," Kaylee said, the waver in her voice conveying her uncertainty.

"Of course you can," Inara encouraged. "Mal doesn't have the monopoly on stealth. Now: how does the good doctor organize his supplies?"

"Wellll." Kaylee squinted, thoughtful. "Mostly alphabet-ordered I think."

"Alphabetical. Okay."

"And anal."

"Alphabetical and anal." Hiding a smile, Inara opened a drawer labeled M-P. "Let's start with pregnancy."

Kaylee hissed in a breath. Inara turned, her expression soft, her gaze full of compassion.

"It's okay, honey. We don't know anything yet."

"He ain't ready. Oh, jeez, Nara. 'S gonna be all stewed up o'er this! Already worries too much. Gonna worry himself right into a heart attack some day."

"He's twenty-five years old, Kaylee. And from what I've seen of his physique I think we needn't worry overmuch over his health."

"Ain't right him havin' those abs. Man don't even exercise proper."

Inara raised a brow.

"You complaining about your husband's excellent abs, mei mei?"

Kaylee giggled.

"He's real strong, Nara. Sometimes he lifts me right up and...nope! Not goin' there. Goin' there's what got me -here- in the first place." She hugged herself around the middle.

Inara offered a sympathetic smile, went back to searching.

"I found the test," she said finally.

"Under pregnancy?"

"No." Inara hesitated, eyed Kaylee with apology. "Under H for heart attack."

"Na-ra!"

"Sweetie, I'm teasing. Try to calm down, alright? Take a nice, deep breath; good girl." She took Kaylee by the hand. "This looks fairly comprehensive. We prick your finger, dab the blood on the applicator. Do you want help?"

Kaylee looked faintly sick.

"Does it gotta be a blood test?"

"I--well--"

"River?" Simon's voice snaked around the corner, grew louder as he neared the infirmary. "River, you're not playing in the infirmary, are you? I--oh. Kaylee, Inara. Is everything okay?"

"Fine," Inara lied, setting her mouth in a smile.

"Good. I--is that a pregnancy test?" he asked, eyes narrowing on the applicator in Kaylee's palm.

"I, uh...well..." She turned pleading eyes on Inara.

"Kaylee?" His eyes went wide. "You're not...are you...?"

-Oh, go suh.-

Behind her back, Inara pricked her own finger on the needle, tried not to cringe.

"This is my fault, Simon." She showed him her fingertip, now crowned with a pearly drop of red. "I asked Kaylee to help me take a pregnancy test."

"You--you think you're...?"

"Maybe." She smiled, lifted a shoulder. "I'm not certain."

Kaylee just gaped.

"Inara...not to--meddle. But Mal...well, he was gone a-awhile. Just how late are you...if you don't mind my asking?"

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. She blamed Mal for this. In more than two years, the man hadn't taught her a single thing about stealth.

"I didn't--I'm not. Late I mean. It's just...last night Mal was a bit, well, eager. I'm afraid neither of us thought to use protection."

"Okay." He nodded, his manner at once gentle and professional. "Where are you in your cycle?"

"I--I lost count." She blushed, more from her own miserable performance than the embarrassing turn of topic.

"Well, it's a little early to tell." Simon lifted her hand, smeared the dollop of blood over the applicator. "We can run another test tomorrow, assuming this one comes back negative."

He rummaged in a drawer, found a lime green bandage for her finger. The girls conducted a silent, meaningful dialogue with their eyes while his back was turned.

"Inara? You know, you can come to me with these things. Like any of my patients, I'd respect your privacy. It doesn't matter that Mal's the captain; when you're on my table, you come first. Okay?"

She nodded, kissed his cheek.

"You're very sweet, Simon. Kaylee's fortunate."

She fled the infirmary before he could offer to examine her.

---

TBC in Part 25. Girl needs feedback!


	25. Chapter 25

---

"No."

"Mal, if you'd just let me—"

"I said no, Nara. Now drop it."

She arched a delicately-shaped brow.

"I'm sorry, Mal. Did you just issue a command?"

"Uh, yep. Believe I did."

She shook her head, dark eyes flashing.

"You're incredible."

"Why, thank you, kitten."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment."

"No, don't reckon you did."

"This isn't the army, Mal; it's a relationship. You can't just hand out orders."

"Yeah, I can. It's my boat. My boat, my belly wound and my ta ma duh traitorous business associate. Believe that makes it my call."

Despite herself, Inara smiled, rolled gleaming eyes at the ceiling.

"You sound like Raven. 'My duck book, my cookie.' "

"Cupcake, you comparin' me to a toddler?"

"No." She smiled sweetly. "Before a year, they're called infants."

He glared, pronounced his words with a low growl.

"You, sweetheart, are hittin' my last nerve 'bout now. Now I can understand you mistakin' my very explicit order for a matter up for discussion. Having never actually obeyed an order, you're prolly a mite fuzzy on the protocol. So let me be perfectly clear: under no condition are you to go after Badger, dong ma?"

Those pretty brown orbs weren't just flashing now: they were snapping. Mal cringed, steeling against the impending tongue-lashing. He watched her stand, figure curving over the table, hands grasping the sides for support.

"How dare you--"

"Morning."

They both turned at Simon's innocuous greeting. The doctor was scanning med journals while he walked, a rather hazardous habit that resulted more often than not in mid-corridor collisions. He wandered toward the stove without sparing either of them a second glance.

Mal returned his gaze to Inara, hoping she'd start shouting again. He'd rather finish this fight than have it linger. It was still early. If they got it out now, things could be on the mend by bedtime.

"You were saying, sweetheart?" He added emphasis to the last word, deliberately goading her. Unfortunately, she seemed to prefer chewing him out in private.

"We'll talk about this later," she said, returning to her seat. She sipped her tea and ignored him.

"I can't wait," he muttered, glowering into his coffee. "Doc, you finish 'nocking everyone yet?"

"All but you, Captain. Still, it's a couple more days to Bellerophon, right?"

"Hmm," Mal agreed. He was feeling distinctly sulky.

"Good." Simon nodded, tugging uncomfortably at his left ear. "Inara? Why don't you stop by sometime this morning? My records show it's been a while since your last check up."

Mal glanced up, frustration forgotten in favor of concern.

"You sick?"

"I—I'm fine." She blinked at Simon in surprise. "I don't need to be examined."

"Are you, um, are you sure?" Simon met her gaze. He raised a brow.

"Oh!" She bit her lip, but it was too late. -Oh, go suh.-

"What's she need examining for?" Mal stretched across the table to stroke the back of her hand. "Inara? What's wrong?" he asked more softly.

"Nothing!" She met Simon's eyes, begging for help. -Kaylee, meimei—you owe me, my dear.- "Really, Mal. I'm fine."

"She is...Captain." Simon seemed to recover his voice. "Just a routine physical, nothing out of the ordinary."

Poor Simon. Inara felt her lips curve. He really was a terrible liar. Mal looked less than convinced.

"It's nothing," she promised. She met his eyes, made her own appear guileless. "Just…feminine issues." She shrugged. "Cycles."

"Oh." Mal turned faintly pink, lowered his gaze to his plate. "Well, then. Good. You two, uh, you do that then."

"Hey, Cap'n, Nara." Kaylee bounced into the galley, stopped by Simon's place to kiss him full on the mouth. "Hey, sweetie."

"Good morning." Simon ignored Mal's eye roll, tugged out a chair for her to sit. "Sleep well?"

"Mm-hmm! Nara? Can I see you in the, um, other part of the kitchen a sec?"

"I—of course." Inara rose and followed Kaylee to the stove.

"Hold it." Mal eyed the pair suspiciously. "There somethin' you two wanna share with the group?"

"No, Cap'n." Kaylee regarded him, all sunshine and sweetness. "Just, ya know--girl stuff."

"Uh huh." Mal watched the ladies huddle in front of the sink. Kaylee murmured something punctuated with shrieks.

"Oh, Kaylee. You're happy, right?" She brushed Kaylee's tangled hair back from her eyes. "This is good news?"

"The shiniest." Kaylee beamed. "Not that...not never, I mean. Just not--"

"Not today?" Inara guessed.

Kaylee nodded, and they giggled some.

"Doc." Mal leaned over the table. "You ever get the feelin' there's a few too many females on this boat?"

"My sister's a government-trained assassin, and my wife has access to power tools. I fear answering that question may be hazardous to my health."

Mal smirked.

"Coward."

---

It was scarcely daylight when she appeared on her doorstep. Even in the dim morning light, Esmerelda could make out the new lines around the woman's eyes.

"You left without telling me! I didn't know where you'd gone or when you'd be back…I was so afraid I'd have the babies while you were away. I don't know what I'd do if…if…"

"Stop that. Stop that right now." Esmerelda guided the young woman she considered a daughter inside, settled her on the velvet settee before the fire. "All this strain can't be good for the babies."

"Do you know what else is bad for the babies? Blue hands rooting around in their brains, Emmy. Sharp hands with scalpels for fingers, rooting, digging. Oh, God, I sound crazy."

"You aren't crazy."

"Isn't that what you say to a crazy person?"

Hush." Emmy smoothed strawberry-blonde hair back from a furrowed brow, tilted the girl's chin to meet her gaze. "I know you, Rebecca. You aren't one of those simpering Core wives. You wouldn't act this way without cause."

"I don't know anymore." She choked on a sob. "I don't know anything!"

"Hush." Emmy made her eyes soothing, her beauty soft and warm and welcoming. "Tell me what's wrong. A few months ago, you confided a suspicion that the Alliance had some malevolent motive for impregnating you with those embryos. You asked me not to question you further, and I respected your wishes. But now—Becca, I'm worried for you, darling. Look at yourself: you're exhausted, shaking. Have you been sleeping?"

Rebecca almost laughed. She couldn't sleep: sleep was when the dreams came.

"Trust me with this, mei-mei. I can't help you if you won't trust me."

Rebecca looked up, face twisting as sobs made her pretty features ugly.

"I'm going to brew some tea. Then you'll tell me everything." It wasn't a question.

Emmy left the girl shuddering on the sofa. She tried not to let her hands shake as they filled the kettle.

She'd seen the effects of Alliance meddling. She couldn't bear to see it touch that which she thought of as hers. In two marriages—the first tragic, too-short, and difficult the second long and easy and a lie—she'd had no children of her own. She suffered no womanly affliction. She simply chose to remain childless. From girlhood, Emmy had looked upon pregnancy and motherhood as something to dread. To her, bearing the children of a man—any man—meant a loss of control. She refused to let her body betray her that way, took steps to ensure it never would. A part of her regretted it when Quentin died, mourned that she wouldn't be left with even a piece of him. But in a sense, she was grateful. She didn't want the responsibility of raising Quentin's child, was secretly relieved when Mary Reynolds rejected her offer to rear Malcom as her own. Esmerelda Webb Fitzgerald was many things. Sister. Lover. Companion. Murderess. She was not, however, a mother.

With Aston, she adopted more severe measures to ensure she never bore him a child. He swore her barrenness didn't matter, promised she was enough for him. It was a truth—one of the few they'd tell each other in the thirty years they were man and wife. Emmy was a career-enhancing asset all her own; children would do nothing for Aston that she herself could not. After she killed him, she was fiercely grateful for their lack of offspring. It wasn't that she'd hold the father's betrayal against the child. She didn't -think- she'd do that. She also didn't think she could look her own child in the eye, look at it and deny murdering its father.

Before she contracted with Quentin Webb—handsome young senator, idealist and dreamer—Emmy was content in her world. After him, she was never content again, not in any world, any role, any bed. She knew she'd been meant to live out her life as Companion, fall in love a hundred times and fall out again with the sunrise. A Companion could experience attachment, lust, love even. But it was fleeting, ephemeral as the brush of a bird's wings on a still pond, a young girl's virginity. Even at twenty, she knew enough to know she hadn't the capacity for deep and abiding love. In earnest, she didn't want the burden of caring more for any one person than for humanity as a whole. She never wanted a child. Now there were two she considered her children. And against her will, she worried for them both.

She was just glad she'd had the luxury of seeing Mal once with her own eyes. Bullet-wound notwithstanding, he seemed healthy, strong. Furtive maybe, but she would have expected that from one who lived as he did. He had a presence about him: sex and power and potency. And yet she could see something very little-boy beneath all that hardness. She could see his father. Even now the memory made her smile. Yes, Malcom was okay. She'd put him aside, concentrate on the hysterical young woman in her sitting room.

"Becca?" Emmy nudged the door open with knee, backed in carrying a tray with plates and saucers. "The tea's still steeping; would you like something to eat?"

Emmy looked around, felt her breath hitch when she saw Rebecca. The younger woman was curled fetal on the floor, face hidden in her hands.

"Merciful Buddha." Emmy went to the girl, draped a heavy afghan over her shoulders. Gently, she lifted the girl's head, lowered it to her lap. "Shh. It's all right."

Rebecca murmured to herself, soft and nonsensical, as Emmy stroked her back through the blanket.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't. I shouldn't even be here. Oh, God, what if they try to hurt you too?"

"Rebecca." She made her voice firm. "Who are they?"

"I don't know. I don't even know that! But they're terrible. They wield scalpels in their bright blue hands and they…do things. They hurt people. Not just the babies—there've been others."

"I don't understand, sweetheart. Did someone touch you? Did they try to harm the twins?"

"Not yet. But…I can see them doing it."

"Like a nightmare?" Emmy coaxed. "A bad dream?"

"That's the thing, Emmy." Rebecca glanced up, eyes soft and glazed. "I don't think it was even my dream."

---

They came every night, came unbidden to crawl into bed with her and Rex. Like leeches, the dreams suckled at her happiness, fed from joy that was rightly hers. She'd wanted a child so long, so hard. She never thought she'd reject the ones God gave her. But it wasn't God who gave her these babies; it was man. Mankind with all his fleshly flaws. And like their mother—for surely they were -her- dreams, her eyes and ears and blood—Rebecca had begun to wish the babies away. It wasn't about ending their lives; it was about saving them.

In the beginning, the messages were stronger:

-Selfish. Abomination Daddy's smile and Mama's broken brain. Oh, God!-

Over time, the message altered.

-Innocent. Pretty. Oh! Don't you see? I can't, I can't!-

Now the mothers' voices mingled, merged until Rebecca was no longer certain which thoughts were her own and which belonged to a woman millions of miles away.

The girl child was beautiful in an ethereal way: pale skin and dark hair, waving, flowing. She was small and graceful, mermaid-cold. They stuck needles in her pretty face and made her scream.

The boy's features were prettier than his father's. He had a wicked temper, struck out at everyone save his sister. He seemed to realize she was wrong in the head, battered and bruised and bled. The way she was wasn't the way she should be, and knowing that hurt him.

Only once did Rebecca hear their voices. The girl spoke in riddles, sweet singsongy warnings that meant nothing. The boy's voice was cruel and hollow, the sort of evil you felt sorry for.

"It's too risky to let them live." A long, agonized sigh. "Shoot them all, then blow up the ship."

When she encountered her children in the dream world, they seemed not to know her. They called her mother but looked upon her with no warmth in their eyes. They didn't hate her; she was simply nothing to them.

"You aren't crazy," Emmy maintained. "I've encountered crazy a time or two, and you aren't that, my dear. But perhaps--perhaps your subconscious mind is playing tricks on you. The dreams could be a way of working through your fears."

"I don't think they're dreams, Emmy." She fished a tissue from the pocket of her sweater, pressed the crumpled cotton against her nose. "I'm afraid they're the future."

"Predicting the future is impossible. That's the beauty of the future: it can be altered."

"Yes. I think I'm meant to alter it."

"Rebecca." Emmy met the younger woman's gaze. "The girl who supplied the eggs: what's her name, Becca?"

"A woman called River. River Tam. Except, actually...actually, she's hardly more than a girl."

Emmy felt a cold sludge sluice through her veins. Her throat hurt, felt so tight she could hardly push out the words.

"And the father? Do you know his name?" she whispered.

Rebecca looked remorseful. She lowered her pretty lashes to the floor.

"I think Malcom Reynolds is their father."

---

She sat on the exam table, watching as Simon prepped the test. She felt guilty for deceiving him this way. Still, she'd concocted this silly story, had, for Kaylee's sake, to follow through to the inevitable conclusion. At least things turned out well for her friend. The girl wanted a few years to enjoy her husband, her marriage. Sweet Kaylee, she deserved that.

"Hold out your hand." He made her laugh over something silly, pricked her finger so fast she hardly felt the sting. "Okay. It'll just be a few minutes."

She smiled her thanks.

"Just out of curiosity, Inara...what sort of punishment had you in mind for our classy crimelord friend?"

"Why Doctor Tam. Do I detect a sadistic streak?" she teased.

"We can't all be masochists like Mal."

She laughed.

"Inara...what are you planning?"

"I don't know how familiar you are with Companion culture..."

"I'm afraid not very."

"How about Sihonese history?"

"Mm, let's see. The Allied core--Londinium, Ariel and Osiris--married with Sihnon before pushing to the outer rim. Sihnon fought alongside the Alliance for unification. After the war, the Alliance appointed twin emperors, one to rule from Londinium, one from Sihnon. I'm sorry, I can't remember any specifics." He shrugged, apologetic. "I should have paid more attention in my history lessons. Perhaps had I anticipated my life on the run..."

She laughed.

"You covered the essentials. My own knowledge leans more toward the Guild's role in these events. You see, the Guild partnered with the Alliance long before anyone took up arms. In fact, the Companions had little choice but to submit; had they refused and the Alliance emerged victorious...well, we would have been shut down. It was a mutually beneficial business relationship; the Guild helped the Alliance establish a powerbase on Sihnon; in exchange, the Alliance agreed to defend the Guild's interests and support its continued legality.

"Still, the Alliance did little to protect us in the years following the War. There was a famous case in 2512--a high-ranking Companion of House Madrassa was raped by a prominent military official. The Guild had witnesses, physical evidence. The Alliance failed to punish the officer in a satisfactory manner. Instead of bowing down in defeat, the Companions opted to take justice in their own hands. They commissioned the development of several designer viruses. Have you ever heard of Era Nex?"

"Lady death?"

"You know your Latin, Doctor."

"How does it work?" he asked quietly.

"The virus enters the body through the bloodstream, lies dormant in the carrier's mucosal glands and passes to the intended victim through sexual intercourse. It's proven a reliable method of dealing with...with men who aren't that: aren't men. All registered Companions are immunized; we--they--all carry a supply."

"You--you have this substance on board?"

"I still have contacts, friends." She shrugged a delicate shoulder. "After the Alliance boarded Serenity last year, I started carrying a syringe in my purse."

Simon just nodded.

"Have you ever used it?"

"I've never injected myself. Once I gave a small dose intravenously to someone else...someone who had to be stopped. It wasn't enough to kill him. I didn't give him that much of...But it accomplished the desired task. It--disabled him."

"Inara...are you alright?"

She smiled.

"You're very sweet, Simon."

"Not so sweet as to regret what you did to your hwoon dan of a father."

She raised a brow, tried to keep her tone light.

"Sweet and shrewd."

"But that's not your plan for Badger."

She smiled back.

"I have something special in mind for Badger."

Simon eyed her, half horrified, half impressed.

"So I take it Mal isn't a fan of this little scheme...?"

She snorted, somehow made it ladylike.

"Stupid question." He glanced at his wristwatch, took a breath. "Are you ready for the results?"

Her lips curved.

"I await them with bated breath, Doctor."

"One pregnancy test: coming up."

"Uh, what was that?"

They both looked up to find the captain lingering in the doorway.

"One what test?" Mal repeated.

"Mal," Simon tried. "It's really not appropriate for you to be here right now."

"That's good, Doctor--you tellin' me what's appropriate on my own damn boat. Nara, what's goin' on?"

"I--nothing. Why are you spying on me?"

"Spying? Ha! I don't spy, darlin'. Had affairs in the cargo bay and was wanderin' past these parts when I heard a certain medic mumblin' bout pregnancy. That's a word tends to arouse a man's attention, sweetie-pie."

"And of course there can be nothing on this ship that occurs without the great Captain Reynolds' express approval!"

"And I didn't approve a pregnancy test!"

"Dammit, Mal! Stop trying to control everything! Gorramn dictatorial, controlling--"

"Oh, I'm controlling!"

"Yes!"

"I'm controlling!"

"Yes!"

"Stop...stop saying yes! Inara, I'm just tryin' to keep you breathing! If you'd take a minute and think about--"

"--won't even listen to my idea! Unbending, mule-headed--"

"--damned unyielding woman--"

"--obstinate man! You act like you're still in the war, Mal! As if everything's secret, classified infor--"

"-I- act like everything's...! You wanna talk secrets, sweetheart? You're the one sneakin' about, taking private pregnancy tests--"

"I am -not- sneaking!"

"Uh, guys?" Kaylee appeared in the doorway, ventured a tentative step into the infirmary. "What's goin' on here?"

"I'd be interested in knowin' that my own self."

"Nothing's going on, Mal. I'm not pregnant. Right, Simon?"

Three sets of eyes turned to regard the doctor.

"Um." Simon developed a profound interest in his shoes. He tapped his foot, one hand creeping up near his ear. "W-well."

"It's fine, Simon. I waive my rights to doctor-patient privilege." Inara rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "Just tell Mal I'm not pregnant so he'll go away. -Far- away."

They exchanged venomous glares.

From the doorway, an increasingly repentant Kaylee watched Inara fume, watched the Captain scowl. She wasn't too flustered by their squabbling; after all, this was hardly the first time they'd disagreed, wouldn't likely be the last. No, Kaylee's discomfort stemmed mainly from her husband's all-too-transparent body language. Simon was squirming something fierce. It was a sight with which Kaylee was reasonably familiar. He was swai when he got all nervy, his cheeks goin' a peachy-pink, his mouth scrambling to form words. Yep, that was squirming alright. Oh, Holy Hell, that could only mean...

Kaylee began to regret sincerely her part in this mess. Poor Nara, just tryin' to help...just tryin' to make things easier. Kaylee vowed to get her a really shiny baby gift.

"Simon?"

Inara seemed finally to realize the doctor's silence. Kaylee felt her chest flutter as her friend's face went white.

"Simon?" Inara repeated, softer this time.

"Congratulations," he managed at last.

He grabbed Kaylee's elbow, hurried her out of the room before the shouting started.

---

Dumfounded, Mal stared after the doctor for several seconds. When he at last turned back to Inara, she was ghost-pale and trembling. Her eyes, twin inky pools, betrayed nothing.

"This settles it: you're not goin' after Badger." It was his first lucid thought. One of these days, he'd quit blurtin' out the first thing popped into his head. Clearly that day wasn't today. He folded his arms, tried to appear more captainy.

Inara spared him a single, derisive glance before snorting out a laugh. She started to giggle, the peals causing her shoulders to shake. She bent forward at the waist, laughing so hard her ribs hurt.

"What--what is so damn funny?" he demanded.

She shook her head, unable even to speak. Finally, she just gave up and sat on the floor, leaving Mal to gape at her from above.

"Inara." He hesitated, unsure whether to stand up straighter or join her on the ground. "Stop that."

"Too...too funny. I was just doing it as a favor...Kaylee. She thought...thought she was..." She shook her head again, laughing so hard her eyes began to tear.

Gingerly, Mal lowered himself to the floor. In truth, he hadn't the faintest of notions what was happening just now. Still, somethin' told him this was one o' those key relationship moments: defining and all that. Clearly, they had to be on the ground.

"Inara. Why the hell didn't you tell me?" It wasn't an accusation, just genuine bewilderment.

She sighed, tried to choke back another stream of giggles.

"Now, look." He was starting to get miffed. "I know things have been a little strained lately what with all the...strain. But, well, you thinkin' you might be...with the baby-carryin'...don't you think that merits a moment's discussion?"

"I couldn't tell you, Mal," she managed at last. "I didn't know myself."

"Whadda ya mean you didn't know. You were here takin' the test, weren't ya?"

"You don't understand."

"Uh, no. Think that's pretty blatant."

"Listen to me, Mal. Kaylee thought she was pregnant. That's why I was taking the test--"

"Inara." He blinked several times. "I know you girls are close...but that...that makes the kind of sense that ain't. Wait a second, Kaylee's not--?"

"No. It was a false alarm."

"Huh. Well, that's some kind of relief. I don't get it, though. How'd this happen?"

Beneath her lashes, she flashed him a pointed glare.

"Well, okay, I know how it happened. You got any notion of when?"

She lifted her shoulder.

"Maybe that first morning. We weren't exactly careful."

"I can recall a few times we weren't exactly careful. Still, I thought...thought you couldn't..."

In an instinctive gesture, Inara's hand curved over her belly. Amidst all the commotion--the initial shock, her half-hysterical laughter at the absurdity of the situation--her mind had little chance to fixate on the actual baby. Merciful Buddha, she was carrying Mal's child. She had a very Mal-esque reaction to that notion: Huh. She almost giggled again, decided it would be unwise.

"I couldn't. I thought I couldn't..."

She shook her head, the giggly tears turning to the other kind. Mal leaned over to stroke her hand. It felt all manner o' weird deliverin' these awkward little hand pats, what with him responsible for the life growing inside her. He had a sudden, urgent desire to gather her up in his lap, hold her and their baby both.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Sorry? What the hell do you got to be sorry for?"

"I--I don't know."

"Well, quit it! You weren't the only one in that bed, sweetheart. Or, you know, 'gainst the wall. On the floor. In the shower." He shrugged. "Wherever. You get my meaning. Ain't your fault any more 'n it's mine."

She nodded, the light of realization dawning.

"I see. So now we're looking to assign fault. Well, that's a lovely little tale to tell the baby. Your Mama realized she was pregnant. Then she and Daddy tried to decide whose fault it was."

"What? Inara--that ain't even..." Mal took a long, slow breath. "Okay, clearly 'fault' was the wrong word there. I'm just...I ain't had much time to get used to the idea."

"You've had as much time as I!"

"And you're sittin' on the floor bawling!" He stopped, took another of those clarifying breaths that didn't help worth a damn. Shiny, Mal. Yell at your pregnant girlfriend. Real sweet. "Honey, I didn't mean--"

"Mal, I'm scared." Her eyes were huge, gold specks glistening in the black.

"Yeah. Yeah, me too. C'mere." He took her into his lap, relieved when she came willingly. "Hey. Hey, it's okay. Ai ya, reckon it's more 'n just okay. Inara." He cupped her chin. "It's...it's incredible."

"You're really happy, Mal?"

"Well, let's see. 'Fore this, my day was gonna be lecturin' the little albatross, beatin' Jayne senseless and dishes. Now...well, might just let the dishes sit awhile. Cuz you...well, you're carryin' my kid. Reckon this is a good day." He poked her ribs, absurdly pleased when she smiled. "How 'bout you? You think it'll be Godawful? Baby that's a little you and a little me? Well, hopefully not too much me. I, uh. This might not be the best time to tell you, darlin'. I was a little wild as a lad."

She smiled, took the opportunity to evade his eyeline. She needed time with this, time to think and reflect.

"I never would have guessed, Mal. You've grown into such a law-abiding--oh!" She tugged at his suspenders. "We have to 'wave your sister."

"What? Now?"

"Before she left Serenity, she made me swear, Mal...I was supposed to tell her before you."

---

She shook his shoulder, dug her fingernails into flesh.

"Jayne. Wake up." She watched him thrash. Her pain. Shouldn't have been his. "Jayne," she pleaded.

He jerked awake finally, his face red, his chest warm and slick with sweat.

"Huh!" He raked his fingers through his hair, sat forward on the bed gasping.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

She tried to pet his arm. He shook her off without thinking. Then he caught a glimpse of her face. His reprimand came off soft.

"You don't gotta worry over me. Just a dream, girl. And Jayne ain't one to be made a pussy over a g'ramn nightmare."

He stood up, tugged his pants up over his hips.

"You were screaming," she whispered. Damp lengths of hair stuck to her mouth. "It isn't fair."

"Well, who said life was fair, huh?" He scooped her sleep-mussed hair back with his fingers, brushed a rough kiss along her temple. "I, uh...gonna go for a walk, girl."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "Never wanted you to see."

He was already halfway up the hatch and pretended not to hear.

She burrowed into the blankets, absorbing the last remnants of his body heat. She shivered, her small frame suddenly as ice. She missed the big hands curving around her ribs, the hot breath on the nape of her neck. Jayne Cobb kept his promise; after the rutting, he always held her.

Saw too much though. Saw her secret bits: needle in the face; electrodes to the nipple; the sour-blue flavor of latex on her lips. They pried open her mouth to make her speak.

Trembling in his arms after orgasm, she felt no demons. Like a new butterfly, she clung to her cocoon of big arms and hard flesh and gruff words. Wrapped up in him, she was saved. It was wrong though, unfair that he should suffer while she crept exquisitely through the maze of his dreams. She loved their physicality: the taste of hot cornbread, crumbly on the tongue and creamy with melted butter; the strong smell of paint on a white-picket fence; the salty-sweet flavor of the soft spot hidden behind a woman's ear. Some nights she could kiss the name Jo from his lips. Other nights his mouth mouthed Caroline.

Dreams like that ought to be common property, passed like pastries from one sleeper to the next, savored and shared like lemon bars. But bad dreams: bad dreams should stay true to their owners. River didn't shirk her memories: the flashes of past that came to her as easily in daylight as in darkness. She just wished her demons would remain her own. But they didn't. They invaded Jayne. They insinuated themselves into a gentle, red-haired woman thirty worlds away.

Guilty, River pressed her tear-streaked cheek into the fleshy pad of Jayne's pillow.

"Nightmares show no loyalty," she whispered.

---

They sat up on the sofas long after the others had gone to bed. Mal laid his head in her lap, whispered to her midsection while she stroked his hair. She couldn't hear his words, only knew he was speaking by the tingling brush of his lips on her bare belly.

"What are you telling our child?" she inquired.

"Not to believe anything her mama says 'bout me."

"Her? How do you know it's a girl?"

"Heh." He shrugged. "My life's always been pretty well populated with womenfolk."

She raised a brow.

"Not like that." He rolled his eyes. "Just, well Ma raised me on her lonesome. Well, her and Carly. Then it was Zoe and me all through the War. Got me a woman pilot, woman mechanic. And, course, there's you. You're about as female as they come."

She laughed.

"I'm not sure whether that was a compliment."

He lifted her hand to his lips, pressed a kiss over her knuckles.

"You aren't glad. Not fully anyways."

For someone oftentimes dense as a Sihonese dictionary…well, Mal could be painfully perceptive. Sometimes he could penetrate her with a look. Just now, those crystal-blue eyes breached her soul, piercing the place that was hot and hurting and hollow.

"Do I have to be?" she asked. "Fully glad?"

"Nope." He kissed her fingers.

"I wasn't sure you'd understand."

"I can be sensitive. In a strong, masculine way, course."

"Oh, of course."

They smiled.

"Just…well, reckon this strikes you different from me."

"Yes," she agreed. "It does."

"Inara." He reached up, cupped her face in one palm. "I swear to you, sweetheart. I will keep you and our baby safe. I'll do everything in my power to protect the both of you."

"I know you will, Mal."

"Inara...not to say I'd go along with this--cuz I might not, probably won't--but just outta curiosity, what was your plan for Badger?"

"Well, I--"

"Cap'n. Nara."

They glanced up to find the big man loitering in the entryway, empty Blue Sun mug in hand.

"Jayne." Mal nodded, trying for as much cool dignity as he could muster with his head in Inara's lap.

"Sorry to interrupt your, uh, whatever it is you got goin' there, Mal. Nara, you know any advice for beverages can put a man at his ease."

"Are you having trouble sleeping, Jayne?"

"Somethin' like that. You got any fancy tea or some such?"

"I'll brew you a mug." She pushed Mal's head off her lap, ignoring his moan of protest. "You have to promise to drink it all down."

"Well, I ain't one to turn down free tea. 'Specially the kind I don't gotta make myself."

"I'll just be a moment." She retrieved Jayne's mug, nudged him toward the sofa. "Sit down, Jayne. Keep the captain company while I'm gone."

She shot Mal a pointed glare and left them, the skirts of her robe sweeping over the floorboards.

"Guess congratulations are in order," Jayne said at length. "You two, uh...you plan to have a--?"

Mal slid him a sidelong glance.

"Well, either way, reckon it's shiny."

"Uh huh. She's nineteen years old, Jayne." His voice was deathly quiet.

"Wondered when you and me was gonna have this talk. Well, Mal? Go ahead and do what you're aimin' at. Feel like punchin' me? Maybehaps Lil' Kaylee can lend you a wrench."

"Yeah. Maybehaps."

"I treat her good, Mal. Maybe you don't notice. Or care. But I do."

"Yeah, Jayne. Reckon you ain't often treated 'em as whores. Still, don't much change their purpose."

"Ain't like I seduced her, Mal."

"No, don't imagine our River could be swayed by wiles. Even ones winsome as yours."

"Dammit, Mal! She asked me."

"And you just had to help her!" Mal lowered his voice to a whisper. "Never knew you was so selfless, Jayne."

"Whadda ya gonna do with me, Mal? Shoot me? Toss me off your ship?"

"Ain't rightly sure. There's a part of me has a powerful need to beat on you."

Jayne snorted.

"Wouldn't be the first time. How 'bout that other part?"

That other part passed years lyin' dead in a trench. That part spent too damn long sleeping alone in the mud and filth and wreckage that was his life. Then she came along and changed it. Inara. She breathed air into his lungs and made his atrophied muscles feel. Before her, his sole aim was survival; after, he wanted to live.

When he came upon his albatross in that hospital room, he knew exactly where she was at 'cuz he'd been there a time or two himself. Hell, he'd made his gorramn home there. He'd looked upon her broken face and leaky eyes, and nearly started sobbing his own self. She was too damn young to live in Hell. But he didn't know how to pull her out. And yet somehow Jayne had done it, accomplished what none of the others could, not the doc with his meds nor Kaylee with her smiles.

"The other part wants to know how in the 'verse you did it. Ain't ever seen the girl so...well, normal. Don't make a lick of sense, and yet..." Mal shrugged. "Jesus, Jayne. I'm like to sleep with you my own self."

Jayne shrugged.

"Guess there ain't much accounting for taste. Hell, Mal." He tried a smile, testing. "Look at you and Nara."

Mal watched the woman who deemed him worthy glide back into the common room, two steaming mugs in hand. She set one before each of them.

"The bitter flavor is intentional." She regarded them like a stern schoolteacher, the warmth in her tone softening the words. No, not schoolteacher. More like somebody's mama. "No complaining, either of you."

Mal lifted the tea, swallowed a mouthful and promptly seared his tongue.

"She is fickle, Jayne."

"Who's fickle?" Inara asked.

"The Mistress of Taste."

She crinkled her nose quizzically as the men laughed.

---

She decided she'd go down on him first, figuring he'd be more forgiving after. Not that she'd deceived him, exactly. Not much, anyway.

Kaylee sighed, pressed one last kiss to his hipbone. She was a big, fat...deceiving thing. She regarded him mournfully from beneath her lashes.

"Simon?"

He was still breathin' kinda heavy. Kaylee bit gentle-like at the skin of his belly.

"You conscious yet, Baby?"

Baby. She felt a twinge of guilt. Guilt and something that may have been--probably wasn't--but maybe, maybe might have been regret.

"Any minute now," Simon assured. On a groan, he hauled her up his body. He pressed a kiss to her nose and snuggled her into his chest. Sleepy-like, he nuzzled her neck.

Kaylee let out a sigh. It was all the cap'n's fault, really. Seein' the man so happy--really threw a girl for a loop. He didn't say nothin', not with words anyway; just sat there tryin' to look stern while Nara made the announcement. After he smiled alot, as though he couldn't quite help himself. He'd blushed when Kaylee hugged him, when Zoe in a strange show of sentiment bent to kiss his cheek and again when River slapped his back, murmured, "Way to go, Stud."

The others seemed sorta taken aback, but Inara just laughed, squeezed the cap'n's hand under the table.

Yep, she blamed Mal for this, for her havin' second thoughts if they were that. Was all his fault for grinnin' that way, for every few minutes smoothing a hand down Nara's back, sliding around to palm her belly when he thought no one watching. Sometimes Kaylee forgot the cap'n was how old he was. In a way, he stopped aging and everything else after the War. He came alive some when Nara signed on to rent the shuttle. She stirred somethin' up in him--mostly anger at first, but still: anger was somethin' when for long years you didn't feel nothin'. When the two of 'em finally gave in and got to the sexing...well, Cap'n came alive a good bit more. Wasn't so strange then, him wanting a little one now. A little one that was here on Serenity, not lost somewhere in the Black. A little one created out of messy, complicated love. Whatever created River's baby was complicated too. But it surely weren't love.

Love meant trust. And if you looked up trust in the dictionary...well, likely said somethin' 'bout not takin' pregnancy tests behind your husband's back, even if--no, especially if--he was also your medic. Even if he was sorta uptight.

"Honey? I gotta say somethin'."

"I'm listening. The snoring is in no way I sign that I'm not listening."

"Oh, gawd! I thought I married Simon, not Wash!"

"Would you prefer I behave like Mal? 'Dammit, Kaylee, go fix the whatchamacallit. And don't smile, don't you dare smile. No one smiles on my boat, dong ma? No smiling...and no sex.' '"

Wide-eyed, she giggled, snaked a hand around to tickle his ribs.

"That's pretty good, honey. Simon?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you gonna deliver Nara's baby?"

He smiled, quizzical.

"Unless you'd like to take this one."

"I just meant...won't try to go to a hospital? If'n there's time and, well, a hospital?"

"W-well, I suppose we could...try, I mean. It's up to them, I guess. Actually, it's an interesting point of debate. I'm not sure which idea would distress the captain more. His baby being born in a core world? Or me being the one to deliver it? It's rather fascinating, really."

Kaylee giggled again.

"Simon, would you...would you deliver my baby?"

"Who's the father?" he teased.

"Simon!"

"I'm kidding, Kaylee. Of course I would."

"Oh."

"You don't want me to deliver your hypothetical child?"

"Well, no, just...it's kinda squicky, Simon."

"Squicky?" Simon looked offended. "I'm a doctor, Kaylee."

"Even so. There's just some stuff a husband shouldn't do."

"I see. Well, who would you like to deliver your theoretical baby? Inara? Zoe? Hey, there's always, Jayne--"

"I'm not pregnant, Simon."

Simon blinked.

"Okay. Kaylee, I wasn't seriously suggesting--"

"I'm not...but I thought I was. When you found Nara and me in the infirmary that day...I was the one needed the test. I was a few days late, and I...I started feelin' a bit jittery. I shoulda told you." She looked at her hands, ashamed.

"You, um. You're certain you aren't...?"

"I'm certain."

"Hmm."

"You mad at me, Simon?"

"No."

"Don't sound so sure," she pressed.

"I guess I'm a little hurt." He braced himself on his elbows. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Figured you had enough on your mind, what with River and all. Didn't wanna worry you unnecessary-like. Knew you'd be upset."

"Upset?"

She shrugged.

"You aren't ready."

"And you...you want a--?"

"Ain't so sure. Just...they seem so in love. Inara and the Cap'n, I mean. Think of it, Simon. Cap'n Reynolds, big damn soldiery guy, makin' googly eyes at Nara's tummy. It's all manner o' unnatural"

Simon nodded.

"It is a little strange. But, Kaylee, we'll have all that someday. I promise you." He brushed a kiss over her lips. "And in the meantime...in the meantime, we can have sex at any hour of the day. Not that a baby isn't a blessing, but...just now I'm rather fixated on my beautiful wife. In fact..."

She smiled as he rolled on top of her.

"You don't hate me?" she whispered. "For bein' a big, fat deceiver?"

"Much as you've wounded me by keeping your nonexistent pregnancy a secret...well, I imagine I'll find a way to go on." He smoothed back her hair, pressed a kiss to her temple. "I know it's a little strange for you, me being the only doctor on board. And that's okay, Kaylee. Just do me one favor? Please don't let Jayne deliver our firstborn."

She snorted out a laugh, then hesitated, pretending to reconsider.

"Dunno, Simon." She scrunched up her nose, thoughtful-like. "Jayne does have a familiarity with that part o' the 'natomy."

She was laughing when he tackled her.

---

Gideon watched the little Firefly float down from the blue, settle herself on a patch of green. Next to the Champion, Serenity was an ungainly heap: hardly a ship at all, just bits and pieces. Space Trash, but then the same could be said for her captain, the strange band of travelers who made her a home. Whores and mercs and vermin: the dregs of society. The Alliance would deem them fair sacrifice. And in all likelihood, the Neo-Independents would as well. Believers on both sides would willingly forgo the lives of a few--or perhaps more than a few--in favor of a better world. But there was one, notable exception. By broadcasting that message, Captain Malcom Reynolds earned himself a fair amount of fame and notoriety on both sides of the fight. The Alliance wanted his genes; the Independents--well, it wasn't yet cleared what they wanted with Mal.

Gideon waited for the ramp to drop, watched the crew emerge, blinking in the harsh morning sunshine. He raised a hand to wave, remembered he wasn't eight and let it fall.

"Gideon." Mal gave a brisk nod. "You still alive?" He seemed mildly disappointed.

River skipped out next. She looked well. In spite of himself, Gideon smiled.

"Thank you, Gideon." River bounded up to him, stood on tiptoe to kiss his temple. "Thanks for saving Captain Daddy. You brought him back home; Serenity's grateful."

Gideon raised a brow. Something about her was different. He wondered when he started caring.

"Apparently the captain skipped over the part where that bullet he took should have been mine."

"You know, kid." Mal shook his head. "You make it awful hard for folk to like you."

"Captain ain't one for offering praise," Zoe agreed. She brushed past him, her daughter squirming in her arms. "Kinda learn to take it when he does."

Gideon's gaze lingered on her back, the firm muscles visible beneath her shirt.

"Hey, Giddy." Jayne strode past, slapped his shoulder none-too-lightly. "How's it hangin'?"

"It's...hanging. And please don't call me Giddy."

"Thinkin' you need a nickname, though." Kaylee squinted at him, thoughtful. "Gideon's awful long."

"Kaylee-bird, stop tormenting the boy." Zoe laughed. "Come keep an eye on Raven with me."

"Thank you, Gideon." Inara hesitated beside him, laid a hand on his forearm. "Thanks for taking care of him."

Gideon just nodded, tried to detach her hand with some measure of subtlety. He didn't do gratitude. Especially from women like Inara.

"Hustle up, Gideon!" Mal jerked his head toward the cargo bay. "Go help Jayne prep the mule. You two gonna ride into town and load up the cargo."

"We got cargo, Cap'n?"

"That we do, Lil' Kaylee. Seems our friend Kane got another job for us. Seems we did such a fine job runnin' guns to the good folk of Greenleaf. Funny, Zoe. I don't remember a Greenleaf job."

"That is a strangeness, Captain." She shrugged.

Mal just shook his head.

"Get to work, kids. I got business in town. " He raised a brow at Zoe. "Superfluous though I am, try not to leave the world without me, dong ma?"

Gideon watched him brush a quick kiss over Inara's mouth before firing up the hoverbike and speeding away.

---

The hot air of the bathhouse roused beads of sweat on the back of his neck, sent them seeping under the collar of his shirt. Why didn't he own a button-down with short sleeves? He made a mental note to buy one when next he got some spare coin. Spare coin. Now that was a laugh.

"Uh, Mr. Kane?" Mal plodded on through the thick steam. "Hello?"

"Over here, Malcom."

A squeaky voice sounded from a few pools down. Mal broke through the mist to find Amos Kane lounging in a sunken, marble bath. Lounging in the buff. Okay, clearly the man weren't one for modesty.

"Mr. Kane." Mal nodded, tried to ignore the fact that the man was naked. "I appreciate your seeing me."

"Of course, Malcom. And I hope you'll excuse my appearance." He chuckled. "At my age, it seems unwise to forgo life's little pleasures. I'm something of a fiend for my weekly steam bath. Would you care to join me?"

"W-well, no. No, I'm, uh, clean." He tugged at his collar, wondered briefly whether passing out would be deemed unprofessional.

Kane laughed again.

"Suit yourself. Humor me and have something to drink at least." He gestured to a small cooler full of mineral water.

Grateful, Mal swigged down half a bottle. His swimming vision began to clear.

"Mr. Kane, was hopin' you and me could have words."

"And the subject of our discourse wouldn't be Quentin Webb by chance?"

He smiled at the surprise Mal couldn't quite cover.

"Yes, I wondered when you'd make the connection...realize I knew your father."

"Way I hear it, you more than knew him."

"I suppose you're right." A faint smile touched the older man's lips. "Ah, Mal. So many years ago."

"You, uh, you know my mama 'swell?" Sometimes it hit him how much he missed her. Would be shiny locatin' a person sides hisself and Carly who remembered the woman as she was. Before the sickness took her and twisted her into something other. Bent and broke Mary Reynolds till she died screaming.

"I did." Kane's lips curved in a tight smile. "I knew Mary and Emmy both. You've met her by now, I take it? Esmerelda..."

"Uh, yeah." Mal tried something fierce not to blush. " 'Spose you could say we're somewhat acquainted."

Kane nodded.

"And did she tell you the tale?"

"Bits she could."

"Aston Fitzgerald brainwashed her after your father's murder. And it was that, Mal: murder. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Hwoon dan--excuse my language--swooped in on the girl before Quentin's corpse was even cold."

"She's a pretty girl," Mal hinted.

"Pretty is an insult to that girl's exquisite beauty."

"Maybe someone else is wishin' he swooped..."

"Hardly." Kane chuckled. "I'm sly, Malcom."

"Oh. Ohhh."

"Your father and Derry both knew. It was a non-issue to them, Mal. Your father was always one to judge a man on his character."

Mal couldn't say exactly why, but he was glad to hear that. It felt good. Knowing whatever the man's faults, Webb weren't a bigot.

"It's a shame though. If Quentin had lived to fight the War with us--and he would have, Mal. He would have fought on the right side." Kane smiled. "Our side. And if he had lived, Emmy would have been an asset to our cause. It's a shame they got to her. She should have been more than some simpering core bride."

"You know he's dead? Fitzgerald."

"I'd heard. I can't say I cried overmuch."

"She's the one did the job."

Kane raised a brow.

"That I did not know. Perhaps I underestimated Emmy."

"Trust me, it's been an enlightening week all around. And I'm guessing there's still a few secrets floating about."

"Secrets don't float, Mal. They hang round one's throat like a deadweight."

Mal opened his collar and cuffs, folded the sleeves up to the elbow.

"Then I reckon it's time you take a load off," he said quietly.

---

Kane told him the story over whiskey and cigars in the clubhouse. Later, Inara would notice the smell on Mal's clothes, ask sweetly whether he'd taken up smoking. She'd also ask why he looked so terribly sad all of a sudden.

"What happened with Kane? Did you learn something new?"

He'd try to smile, kiss her cheek and tell her he was fine, tell her not to worry. Ai ya, he didn't want her worrying.

Kane fired up one cigar with the dredges of the previous. The old man cried only once in the telling, his eyes taking on a sheen of wet that he bent his head to hide.

His words echoed Emmy's: Quentin Webb died trying to stop the assassination of a Sihonese political figure. However, the Alliance arrived moments after Webb, arrived in time to hear him warn the poor guy. In time to hear him seal his own fate.

Webb fled the scene on a hover bike. He knew returning home would endanger Emmy, so he headed for the outskirts. And maybe he would have made it, would have escaped. Except someone had engaged an Operative.

The agent found him within hours, ran down the bike and emptied what appeared to be a full clip into Quentin Webb's chest. He was murdered on Alliance orders, namely those of one Aston Fitzgerald. The same man penned the official report, attributing the death of Senator Webb to the bloodthirsty Independents. In retribution for the supposed killing, the Alliance burned two Sihonese temples to the ground. Kane remembered seeing the flames from the sky, his last memory of the Great City.

"And Shep--Book?" Mal interjected after several moments of silence. "What's his role in all this?"

"Derrial." Kane sipped his brandy. "You know, I think in this whole mess of complications, not setting things right with Derry is my greatest regret. I know now he never meant for..."

Mal resisted an urge to shudder, as well as one to swipe a swig from the man's drink.

"What'd Book do?" he asked roughly.

"Malcom." Kane met his gaze, eyes pained. "Book's the one who went to Aston."

Mal didn't speak, not trusting his voice just then.

"Quentin had been amassing evidence for months. He knew atrocities were being committed in the name of the cause. The Alliance always was willing to go to great ends. Evil ends."

"I've noticed," Mal murmured, throat full.

"Derry--he grew up on the Rim. Saw both his parents and three brothers dead before he was twelve. Disease. Famine. He believed very strongly in Unification." Kane puffed his cigar idly. "For awhile, we all did.

"He couldn't have known what would happen, Malcom. I was only then beginning to realize how much of a believer Fitzgerald was, how devoted to the cause. Book thought Aston's allegiance to Quentin was stronger than his allegiance to the Alliance. He thought Aston would prevent Quentin from doing something foolish. From doing something to get himself killed. He was gravely mistaken.

"Quentin had been flirting with death for some time. He wrote you letters, fearing he'd never see you grown. He wanted you to know him a little, to have something of his in case the worst happened. You've read them I take it? Still, when it actually transpired...Of course, back then this was all too fresh, too raw. I was far less forgiving. I blamed Derry. I said I hoped he burned in Hell for betraying Quentin."

Mal gave a slow nod.

"Can't say I'd've disagreed much."

"I guess he took my words to heart." Kane downed another shot of the burning liquor. "When the Senate factioned, Derry went with the loyalists while the Independent sympathizers--myself included--fled to the border worlds. But he didn't stay long. He disappeared into the abby by year's end. And that was the end of the Senator Derrial Book..."

---

ONE WEEK LATER:

Working out o' the office was terrible inconvenient, 's'what it was. Still, any respectable businessman knew the best place to pick up spanking new snatch was the Eavesdown Cantina, just a quarter klick east o' the main docks. Local girls had a habit o' gatherin' there, eager to have a go with whatever space trash dropped down from the Black. Captain or crew, didn't matter none long as money changed hands. Gorramn whores. Couldn't they see they was better off with steady work, the sort only a reputable fellow such as himself could provide? Round these parts, the name Badger was synonymous with low-cost, reliable snatch. Was somethin' to be proud of 's'what it was. As business was better 'n typical of late, Badger intended to add to his wares.

He downed another shot of what passed for good liquor in this world, beckoned his associate closer.

"Bring me that one there. Yeah."

Bleached blond hair with a bit of a curl. Clear blue eyes said she weren't strung out on Lift like some o' the others.

"Let me see the teeth. Yeah. Yeah, she'll do quite nice. Who's next?"

"Good afternoon."

He saw her hands first. Long slim fingers the color of caramels; clean, buffed nails red as the apple peel coiling from the corner of his mouth. He caught a whiff of something rich, felt his nostrils singe. He wanted to sneeze. He wanted a blow job. Was the sorta scent meant to ensnare a man. Oranges, 'haps? All the whores on Persephone smelled like that, like fish and semen and the same rose cologne. This one was no whore. But she wasn't a lady neither.

"Evenin', love." He raked his eyes up her body, one brow cocking in approval. "Sum'in tells me you ain't here after a job."

She smiled, a berry-pink tongue sweeping out to brush lush red lips.

She was a looker, this. The classy sort what bathed regular, not just Sundays and special occasions.

"New to these parts, aren't ya?"

"I suppose I'm a visitor to your world, Mr. Badger."

He squinted up at her, intrigued, the apple peel slipping from between his teeth.

"Now how do you know my name? What's your story, love?"

"Rheanna. My name's Rheanna."

"Pretty name."

"Would you like to buy me a drink, Mr. Badger? Preferably someplace that's elsewhere? Forgive my directness. I just find our present company, shall we say, unfavorable." Her gaze swept over the crowded cantina.

"Is that a fact?"

"Yes. Whenever possible, I prefer not to drink with ruffians."

"Heh. I like that. Quality people: them's an endangered breed of late."

"I couldn't agree more, Mr. Badger."

---

He woke the next morning, groggy and sick to his stomach. Beside him, the bed was cold.

"Up and leave ya with naught but a nasty 'eadache to remember 'em by. In't always the way."

Badger rubbed a hand over his jaw, groped for the lamp.

"Ahh!" He jumped, clapped a hand over his heart as he saw her standing in the doorway. "Oh, 'ello, love. You scared me some; thought you'd gone already."

Rheanna just smiled.

"Oh, I'm not quite through with you, Badger."

"That a fact? Much as I ain't inclined to disappoint a lov-er-ly lady--well, I ain't feelin' my full self, see." The previous evening's bender would've put a shepherd to shame.

"Why don't you leave that to me?"

She dropped to her knees, preventing further debate.

Nothin' cured a hangover better 'n tea from Londinium and a blow job from Sihnon. He was a smart enough bloke not to ask her to make the tea.

He lay back on the bed, happy to let that pretty little mouth heal what ailed 'im. He waited. Somethin' wasn' right. Nothin' 'appening.

"Uh, love. This, uh...it ain't never done this, see. Honestly, I can't hazard a guess why--oh, now, don't be that way, love. Don't go."

He watched her gather her bag, her wrap. In a breeze of rich scent, she was gone.

His newest indentured girl appeared in the doorway. She was a jittery little twit, barely fifteen and all skinny limbs and big eyes and bad teeth. Teeth were very important to Badger.

"Sir? Sir, this came for you."

She handed him a small parcel. Badger tied the belt of his silk robe and sat on the edge of the bed. He used a knife to slit open the packaging.

The capture was light sensitive, began to play as soon as he lifted it from the box.

"Good morning, Badger."

She smiled; now that was a woman with fine teeth.

"We haven't been properly introduced. My name is Inara Serra; I'm a friend of Captain Reynolds. You're probably wondering why certain parts of your anatomy are not up to their usual, though I imagine not terribly impressive, standards this morning. The answer is very simple; you've been infected with a virus, Badger. You are completely and utterly impotent. Oh, don't be such a baby; you'll recover. Assuming I provide you with the antidote." Her lips curved. "Did I forget to mention you need the antidote? Silly me. But you needn't worry. I'll send it in a few months. Probably. Assuming you learn to behave.

"Now here's where you should listen very carefully, Badger; you may want to take notes. This little lesson is meant to serve as a warning. If you harm Malcom Reynolds or any member of his crew again...let's just say the next time I contact you, you'll suffer more than just a loss of sexual function. Heed my advice, Badger. You don't want to cross me."

The message ended. Badger stood still for several seconds, gaping at the frozen image of the dark-haired beauty's less-than-menacing face. And yet somethin' about the lass was right menacing at that. His left eye began to twitch, and he slapped a hand over the offending feature. Howling, Badger tore the flimsy capture to shreds.

---

She recognized his footfall on the catwalks. Like everything else of Mal's, his walk was distinctive. He sat beside her on the grating, and together they eyed Kane's cargo. Engine parts this time: too many to stow in the holds.

"So guess I owe you an apology of sorts. And, I 'spect, a fair bit o' gratitude."

"Wow." She smiled. "Should I get a capture?"

"Oh, reckon you'll recall this moment plenty well without vid." He leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Did just fine, darlin'. Makes a man powerful proud."

She met his eyes, her own free from jest.

"Thank you, Mal."

"Don't take this wrong--I meant it 'bout bein' impressed and all that. But you, uh, you can be a mite scary, sweetheart."

"I'm not an innocent like Kaylee. Or even River. I've...done things. Some of which aren't so very motherly." Inara studied the palms of her hands. "It's a shame Book's no longer with us. Sometimes I fear we're all a bit lost without his moral compass."

"Yeah, well." Mal shrugged, uncomfortable. "Sometimes you don't need a compass so much as a clear path. Way I see it, a good mama's one does anything and everything to protect her chick. Baby born in this godforsaken 'verse...reckon that kid's gonna need some protecting. Inara." He tilted her chin till their eyes met. "You do what needs to be done. Ain't more or less, dong ma?"

She nodded. Mal cleared his throat.

"So that stuff your friend used on our favorite lowlife...you keep any o' that round the ship?"

She let him draw her near, let her head come to rest on his chest.

"It's called Admiratio Inermis. A loose translation is 'surprise impotence.'

"Sweet Ye su, that sounds like a bad musical: Surprise! Impotence."

"Spoken like a man who's seen a bad musical or two in his day."

"Cupcake...what you don't know 'bout me could fill a...well, somethin' big surely."

"Mm, I remember now. Book of Your Life, right?"

"Well, yeah." Mal hesitated. "Still, though. Guess it's good you got the rest of our lives to find out."

She blinked, at once surprised and touched.

"I guess so," she said.

---

TBC in Part 26. Writer begs for feedback...


	26. Chapter 26

---

She poked her head around the Chinese screen and once more scanned the quiet shuttle. Satisfied that she was alone, Inara crept out from behind the curtain. Only when she stood before the full-length mirror did she allow the robe to fall from her shoulders, pool on the floor in a puddle of gold silk.

It was silly, really: this sudden bout of modesty. Mal had made it abundantly clear that no one was to enter her shuttle--theirs now--without knocking.

"Know what's missing from this ship?" he asked at breakfast one morning.

"Food that's actually food?" Jayne suggested.

"Well, yeah," Mal agreed. "But I was gonna say--"

"The infirmary's running low on a few things," Simon offered.

"Right. Fine. But I was talkin' 'bout--"

"A karaoke box would be real shiny, Cap'n!"

"A karaoke--" Mal looked incredulous. "Kaylee, we are not getting a karaoke box!"

"Cap mad?" Raven ventured.

Kaylee beamed, settled back in her seat triumphantly.

"What? No, Little Chick. Uncle Mal ain't mad." He leaned over to pat her head.

"Mad face," she insisted.

"That's his usual face, sweetheart," Zoe assured.

"Mad at Lee."

"Raven, I'm not mad at your Aunt Kaylee." Mal was getting desperate; he knew what was coming. "Really, Aunt Kaylee and me's right as rain. Ain't we, Kaylee?"

Kaylee raised a brow but remained silent. Mal rolled his eyes.

"Hug," Raven demanded. "Hug Lee."

"Now listen, Little Chick. I'm the captain o' this ship, and I say..." He sighed. "I say, least I don't gotta hug the doc again. C'mere, Kaylee. Gimme a damn hug."

Inara had smiled, reached out to stroke a hand over Raven's smooth black waves as the captain and Kaylee embraced. She loved watching Mal with his niece, whether it was chasing her around the cargo bay while she shrieked with laughter or bowing to her gentle insistence that they all get along.

"Happy now, Little Chick? Can I continue my speech?"

She ignored him, busy making silly faces at Jayne over her oatmeal.

"Privacy," Mal continued. "Sometimes I think you people don't know the meaning o' the word, and Zoe, did you just snort?"

"Sir?"

"That a subtle signal that I don't mind my own?"

Zoe lifted a brow.

"Really didn't mean it to be subtle."

"Hey, now. I have to keep an eye on things. I'm the captain."

"Cap mad?" Raven ventured.

"No, Little Chick. Now as I was saying--"

"Hug Mama."

"Uh, honey, your mama and I--we don't hug."

"He's right, Raven. We're strong soldierly types." Zoe hid a smile. "No hugging."

"Hug." She whacked her spoon on the table, brown eyes huge. "Cap an' Mama."

"Kid's gonna just love spin the bottle," Jayne muttered. "Hell, Zoe, what are ya teachin' her? Some pacifist crap?"

Mal reached around Simon to slap the back of Jayne's head.

"Don't swear in front of the chick!"

"Christ, Mal. You said damn not two ruttin' minutes ago!"

"Cap, hug."

"Sure I'll hug you, honey."

Mal made a move to lift the baby but she shook her head, squirming out of his grasp.

"No! Hug Jay."

"Oh, Sweet Ye su," Mal murmured. "Zoe, this has gotta stop."

Zoe didn't answer. She was too busy snickering into her oatmeal.

"Privacy," Mal repeated. "Personal space. These are good things..."

In a way the shuttle did afford them more privacy. It was set apart from the crew quarters, a fair distance away from the passenger dorms. He'd spent a good portion of the last three months renovating it for her, slipping out of bed in the middle of the night, creeping off to clean and paint and fill the metal cavity with the furnishing that made it a home. He'd even fashioned a double bed of sorts, pushing two bunks together and covering them with an oversized blanket. The extra space was lovely, even if the beds had a habit of sliding apart in moments of passion. More than once, they wound up sprawled on the floor between them, a tangle of sweaty sheets and bruised limbs.

"Screw it," Mal had said the first time, deciding to prove his prowess in the bedroom didn't require an actual bed. The memory called a smile to her lips.

Yes, she liked sharing the shuttle with Mal, sharing a bed and a closet. She liked seeing his neat line of shirts hanging beside her dresses, his trousers snuck in between her skirts. On more than one occasion, the sight of him strapping on his suspenders in the morning was sufficient motivation to jump him. She did, swallowing his surprised 'oh' with her lips before pushing his pants down and tugging him back to bed. She liked falling asleep sated from sex and waking up to his kisses. Warm, openmouthed kisses to her chest, quick pecks to the belly, long tingling ones to the curve of her neck. Oh, yes, she liked all that. And it wasn't as though she were overly self-conscious. She never used to be self-conscious.

In the stillness of the shuttle, Inara stood before the glass. With a physician's keen eye--or perhaps an artist's more perceptive one--she examined her reflection, naked save a pair of plain black panties. The changes were subtle, so slight that only a select few would notice them at all. Adaptations that were evident solely to her...to her and maybe her lover.

Her breasts were fuller now, enhanced almost a full cup size. Already several of her more formfitting tops looked vaguely pornographic. She was hesitant to buy new ones, though. It seemed somehow a surrender to admit her body was changing without her consent.

Still, she could suffer the bust increase. The gently-rounding bump of her belly, however: that was harder to ignore.

It swelled against the waistband of her underwear, stretching the delicate bikini briefs. She titled her body, studying her new profile. It unnerved her to see it there always, protruding from her body, abnormal, unnatural. Inara had never considered herself particularly vain. Now thought--now, she felt grossly unattractive.

She kept waiting for Mal to notice, say something. But he seemed wholly oblivious to her changing shape. If possible, the man was hornier than before. Neither would he accept her attempts to keep her nightgown in place while they made love. Not that she'd tried terribly hard...

"Pretty," he'd said politely of a black satin number with scalloped sleeves.

"Thank you."

"Uh huh." He nibbled her ear. "You mind if I take it off now?"

"Mal, do you have any idea what lingerie costs? Once, I'd like to wear a piece for more than thirty seconds."

"You make me strip down. Now, see, what if I was wantin' to wear somethin' special."

"Mal." She would -not- giggle. "Well, alright. What would you like to wear?"

He thought about that for a few moments.

"Your gowny thing."

She nearly choked.

"Excuse me?"

"Off with it."

"Mal--"

"You said I could."

"You're crazy."

"Well, yeah. Still." He motioned her to hurry up. "C'mon now."

Shaking her head, she shimmied the nightgown over her head, laid it in his lap.

"Well?"

He appraised it a moment or two, clearly stunned that his argument had the desired effect. Finally, he knotted it around his head like a bandana, let the skirt fall forward to veil his face.

"How do I look?"

"Like you belong in a harem."

"A harem, huh?" He pretended to consider. "Think they'd take me?"

She bludgeoned him with her pillow.

Similarly, he seemed averse to her dressing immediately after sex.

"Cupcake, you got somewhere to be?"

"No. I'm just a little chilly." In an instant, she saw her mistake. Mal tended to take such statements as a personal challenge.

"Huh. Let's see if we can't warm you up," he said, dragging the sheet down to her ankles and replacing the thin satin with his hard naked length.

As mistakes went, that was one of her better. Lost in her head, she barely heard the door slide open. She hadn't time to cover herself before he appeared behind her.

"Starting without me again?"

"Ha--" The second ha died on her lips as he spun her around, sealing his mouth to hers.

"Missed you somethin' fierce." His hands slid over her back, grazed lower to cup her butt.

"It's only been an hour."

"Well, yeah, but...you were naked."

"I'm not naked." She stood on tip toe to brush his lips. "I'm wearing very chic undergarments."

"We gotta do somethin' 'bout those," he agreed, looping his fingers through the waistband.

She expected him to haul her off to bed then. Instead he turned her about, held her still before the mirror. He ran his hands over her chest, watching their reflection to gauge her response.

"Still sore here?" He cradled her breasts in calloused hands.

She couldn't evade his eyes in the glass, didn't bother trying.

"Only a little," she murmured.

His thumbs swept over her nipples, and she shivered. Her skin flushed, the pink bloom a fusion of lust at his touch, unease at his naked exploration.

"They're bigger...mind you, I ain't complaining."

"Oh, how noble of you."

He just smirked. His hands slid down her ribs, stole under the sides of her panties. Gently, he eased the scrap of satin over her thighs, left it to dangle around her knees while he studied their likeness. Apparently satisfied--or perhaps not yet sated--he stepped closer, pressing his swollen pants-front against her bare bottom. Plain, unabashed desire coursed through her.

"Mal," she said. It sounded suspiciously like a plea.

"God, you're beautiful." One hand spread to cup her belly, the fingers of the other delving between her thighs. "More so every damn day."

Her knees shook.

"I--Mal, I can't--"

"Go 'head and fall." He suckled the flesh of her neck. "I've got you."

---

Inara found the younger girl in the common room. She was lying on the sofa with her legs in the air.

"Hi, sweetheart."

River looked embarrassed, though for some reason Inara doubted the girl's shame stemmed from the pillow thrust up under her blouse. River didn't offer clarification, nor did she remove the artificial bulge as Inara sat down, folded her legs under her butt. Inara chose not to ask; she was already dizzy with nausea and navigating the twisty bends of River's brilliant mind was a challenge on a good day.

"Do you mind if we chat for a few minutes?" she asked instead.

"I'm not crazy," River said quickly.

Inara looked surprised.

"Of course you aren't," she said firmly.

River smiled.

"That's what they tell crazy people."

"You are -not- crazy."

"See things sometimes." She shook her head. "Wish I didn't."

"That's not crazy, sweetheart. It's…gifted."

"Doesn't feel like a gift." Soft brown eyes regarded Inara sadly. "Sick?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Morning sickness. Don't look well."

Inara nodded at last.

"To be honest, sweetie, I don't feel so well."

River smiled, appreciating the irony.

"I'll make -you- tea."

"I—thank you. River, wait." She reached out, laid her hand atop the younger woman's own. "I've intended to say this since Mal and I learned about…." Inara gestured to her rounding belly, her expression whimsical.

"He's happy," River murmured. "Proud."

"I—we're both happy," Inara protested.

River lifted a brow.

"You weren't at first. Now you're all muddled."

"It's just…the timing isn't…."

River nodded gravely.

"Sweetheart, this—Mal's and my baby—it doesn't change anything."

"Changes everything."

"Well, yes. In a way. But not for your child—yours and Mal's. The captain won't ever stop looking for the baby that was made from you and him. The kind of man he is...one life can't replace another. He'll do everything in his power to find your child and bring it back to Serenity. Bring it back home."

"Then what happens?" River asked, her voice very small.

"I—I don't know." Inara tried to smile. "Everything goes a little fuzzy after the climax."

"Sometimes the real story starts in the denouement."

"I thought the denouement was the ending."

"Not always. You have to swear."

Amused, Inara lifted a brow.

"What do you want me to swear, River?"

"To finish," she said as though it were obvious. "Promise you'll finish the story no matter what."

"I—I swear."

"Thank you, Inara." River slid the pillow out from under her blouse, returned it lovingly to the sofa. "It's starting."

---

"It's starting," Rebecca whispered.

Her words disappeared into the whirl of the ceiling fan, echoed in her ears with each humming revolution. She looked over at Rex, sleeping soundly, his face mashed into the pillow. In the glow of the nightlight—his purchase to prevent her from tripping in the dark—she found herself marveling at how old he looked. He was still indisputably attractive, but recent years had turned his once slate hair almost entirely gray.

Last month, they went out for Italian on their anniversary. While Rebecca was in the ladies' room, the waitress had asked Rex when his daughter's baby was due He told Becca the story over antipasto when she returned. They laughed, and she teased him about wearing those awful corduroy pants and letting his beard grow in. But the truth was he did look changed. They were both changed.

Now, Rebecca pressed a hand between her legs, feeling the damp spot on the mattress. It was almost a whole month ahead of schedule. Matty said twins often came early. She imagined the babies conspiring, brother and sister encouraging each other to get out already.

"It's okay, guys. Mom's ready." Becca had alerted Emmy to the possibility of an early birth, and they were prepared. All the pieces were in play.

Sometimes she resented deeply that her life had become this: a high-stakes game of Tall Card where strategy was everything. Still, she was a realist. She held the Tall Card in her hand, carried its burdensome weight. Every move had to be made with an understanding of her disadvantage.

"I want to go now," she'd protested three months earlier, lying in Emmy's lap while the older woman stroked her hair.

"But where would you go, Becca? You have to be smart, clever. We need time to plan."

"Won't it be harder? Leaving after they're born?"

"Not necessarily. If it was made to look like a kidnapping…?"

"No."

"There may not be another way."

"We'll find one. I won't abandon them. For God's sake, they're my children." She no longer cringed at the blasphemy. Where was God in all this anyway? "I'm going with them, Emmy. They're a part of me."

"Except…." She could tell it hurt Emmy to say this. "Except, truly, Rebecca, they aren't."

In the end, they contrived a plan. Esmerelda had a friend from Sihnon, a Companion of House Ushas by the name of Lilah Sun.

"Lilah has many affluent clients and does well for herself. She owns several homes in addition to her suite at the Guild House: a cottage by the sea on Sihnon, an apartment in Ariel City. She also keeps a condo on the other side of this world. If we can find a way to take you there after the babies are born…even the Alliance would have trouble connecting Rebecca Gray back to Lilah Sun. It's a start at least."

"Emmy…if I'm right and these children mean what I think they do—we'd be putting your friend at great risk."

"Lilah knows the consequences of crossing the Alliance. She's seen them firsthand." Emmy had looked away, as though struggling to regain her calm. When she spoke again, she murmured something about seeing those consequences strewn over the lawn. "That's one of the reasons I asked her, Becca."

"What would the Guild do? If her superiors learned of her actions..."

"Try to help. A Companion of Lilah's status is well-respected among the Council of Priestesses. Unofficially, the Guild would provide money and resources."

"And officially?"

"Officially the Guild would claim ignorance. If the Alliance was to learn of her relationship with you, the Guild would offer up her neck."

"Dear God. Is everyone in this 'verse scared of the Alliance?"

Emmy had smiled then, her eyes lighting with a much younger girl's spark.

"I'm not scared."

Three months later, Rebecca wasn't scared anymore either.

"Rex." She touched his face, smoothing back the wispy-soft hairs from his forehead. A little awkwardly, she rolled closer, pressed her mouth against his in the darkness. It was too soon to say goodbye, but in her heart she did it anyway. I'll miss you, Rex. You who taught me the breaststroke in your parents' pool, taught me to ride a hover bike over the streets of New Venice and to make love in a small bed and breakfast with hard, narrow beds. You who taught me to lie.

"Beck?"

She smiled, marveling at how easy it was to love and hate someone at the same time.

She kissed him again, harder this time, and told him it was starting.

---

She strode toward the galley and the sound of her daughter's laughter. She thought she'd find the captain with her, teasing out those light peals with tickles, or Kaylee maybe, playing peekaboo from behind a curtain of unkempt hair. Even Jayne seemed fond of evoking the baby's giggles. He and Simon had a routine. The doctor would mime shooting Jayne in the chest--something the former seemed to enjoy--and Jayne would collapse in a fit of death rattles on the table top. Raven would shriek with laughter while Mal rolled his eyes and tried to hold his coffee mug steady through the shaking.

She didn't expect to find what she did: Gideon sitting beside her little girl, conjuring up the baby's giggles with inventive dino-play.

Raven had taken to carrying one or two around, their skinny necks clutched tight in her plump fist. It made Zoe smile, eyes going wide with something that wasn't quite tears but wasn't quite not. She knew what her other Baby would say, wincing at the treatment of his friends.

"Rave." She thought he'd call their daughter such.

"Gentle, Rave. Let the little guys breathe," he'd encourage, trying to pry her hands free.

Zoe watched Gideon march the miniature reptiles over her daughter's arms.

"Grrr. Argh." He let the snapping T-Rex nibble at her fingers.

It was that sight--combined with the pleasing music of her baby girl's giggles--that made her strike out. After, she'd analyze it all, washing away his scent with warm water.

She started this first fight, anticipating the satisfaction of the other. He wouldn't disappoint her in any forum that day.

It was easy to nudge him into a challenge:

"You surprised me. I was...distracted. You distracted me," he corrected, remembering that Christmas Eve spent in the middle of space.

"Sure my knee in your groin was plenty distracting."

"You caught me off guard. In a fair fight, I'd kick your...butt," he amended, glancing at Raven, cheerily consuming her pancakes to his left. He waited, delighted, for the mother's eyes to flash.

"Really."

It wasn't a question. Her eyes shone dark and gleaming--fiery pools of oil in a beautiful furious face. It would seem indignant anger agreed with her.

"Yup. Your butt, my kicking." To his right, the captain was shaking his head. Gideon chose to ignore the warning.

"Gideon. You implying I couldn't take you out in a stand up fight?"

"I'm not implying anything, Zoe. I'm promising."

"Oh, holy hell," Mal muttered.

"Come to the cargo bay," she said cooly.

"Shuh muh?"

"Kaylee?"

Her eyes never wavered from his. Gideon wondered how many men she'd downed just by looking at them

"Um, yeah, Zoe?" Kaylee looked flustered, spatula still in hand. There was a spot of flour on her nose.

"Mind keeping an eye on my kid?"

"Um, okay."

"Zoe?"

"Sir?"

"You kill him and it makes a mess...well, you're cleanin' it up."

"I'll do that, Captain," Zoe said, mouth expressionless.

What just happened here? He'd only meant to get her riled, watch those jet eyes snap with amusement and annoyance.

He certainly didn't want to take her out.

Helplessly, Gideon turned to Mal. The captain held up his hands in a blatant show of 'Don't look at me.' Or maybe it was 'You made your bed.' Mal's nonverbal communication with Gideon tended to alternate between the two. There was something else this time, a sentiment hidden around that smirk. Gideon thought he read 'You're screwed' there.

"Gideon?" Zoe lifted a brow, one slim hip cocked in impatience. "You comin'?"

He rose with the dread of a man humping himself out of getting humped in the near future.

---

He sat by her bedside, waiting for her to wake.

"Shh," he said when she stirred. With shaking fingers, he combed damp hair away from her face. "It's okay, honey."

"Hurts," she whispered.

"I know it does, Becca. But it's almost over. The pain's almost over."

He removed a syringe from the pocket of his coat. Heparin. He hid the label under his thumb.

"So tired...Matty, what's...what are you...?"

He depressed the plunger into her arm, averting his gaze as he imagined how the anticoagulant would flow through her veins. She'd be unconscious when the bleeding began in earnest. He removed a second hypodermic and repeated the procedure in the opposite elbow, trying to ignore the way she winced.

"This should dull the pain, make you sleep."

"I don't wanna sleep." She fought to keep her eyes focused, lucid. "I wanna see the twins."

"You will, Becca. Soon." He gripped her slim, trembling hand in both of his. Mindful of baby-soft skin, she'd cut all her nails short, buffed them to remove rough edges.

"I--I hardly even got to touch them..."

She squeezed her eyes shut as tears streaked her cheeks. He watched them sluice over golden freckles, disappear into the curve of her throat.

"They're sleeping now, honey. It's been a long day for them, too."

"Yes." She blinked, tried to sit up. "Where's Rex?"

"He's with the babies, Becca."

"Matty, is something wrong? You'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"They're okay?"

"Better than okay." He fought to keep his voice steady. "They're rutting perfection, Rebecca."

She smiled, her free hand reaching out to pat his arm.

"Don't swear, Matty."

"No. No, you're right."

"I'm so tired. It doesn't hurt so terribly now."

"Good." He had to force himself to swallow. "That's good."

"They really are beautiful, Matt. Have you ever seen such beautiful babies?" She laughed.

"I never have, Becca. Have you...have you chosen names?"

She smiled, eyes closing, mouth soft and dreamy.

"Yes," she answered. "The boy's called Devon."

"And the girl?"

Rebecca sighed, already sinking into a dream.

"She'll be Epiphany."

---

He wouldn't let them wash her first. He insisted on seeing her as she was.

The blood soaked her hospital gown, stained her smooth white thighs and colored the sheets. Now it reddened Rex's hands, dyed his hair where he'd raked his fingers moments before.

To Matty, grief wasn't that sickening black-crimson. Grief was blinding white light: an absence and a dearth. He pressed his temple to the glass, watching his friend of twenty years cradle his dead wife's corpse in his arms. Lovely, vibrant Rebecca with her pixie hair, her kind smile. She was still lovely. Pallid and feeble as the frailest Poe heroine. Death at its most delicate.

"I met someone." The words came back to him now, idle chatter from the past.

"Screw her yet?" Matty had asked over a pint.

"No." Rex had shrugged, unoffended. "I'm gonna marry her, Matty."

"You're drunk."

"Yes. She reads, Matt. Novels from Earth-That-Was. She says she'll lend me some, and we can have coffee and discuss them."

"What was the last thing you read, Rex?"

"Before the wine list? Some rambling diatribe on Defense budgets."

"Well, buddy." Matty had raised his glass. "Best of luck with the book club."

A year later they were wed.

Now, the glass felt cool against his flesh, kept him from being sick so far. He smelled the woman's perfume--roses, not sweet so much as potent--before he heard her footsteps.

"Hello. Are you Matt?"

"Can I help you?" he asked in case he was wrong. But he thought he knew her. Registered Companions didn't tend to put in appearances at Alliance Hospitals. The rich jewel tones of her gown stood sharply against the white sterility of this place.

She sniffed then, somehow made it graceful.

"Without intending offense, Doctor, I highly doubt that."

"None taken, Ms. Sun."

"You should really call me Lilah." Lilah pressed her nose against the window, a tiny circle of condensation appearing where she breathed. "After all, what's more intimate than murder?"

"How'd they get you?"

She lifted a delicate shoulder, extending her arm to show him the bruises.

"Torture?"

Her lips quirked.

"That was superfluous. You see, I have a niece: my sister's girl. She'll be sixteen her next birthday."

"Oh." He turned back to the glass.

"And you, Doctor?"

Matty watched her watching Rex, her mouth making a small 'o' as he sprawled out beside Becca on the narrow mattress, curled her empty body into his chest.

"I'm not so noble as you, Lilah. Torture was enough to sway me." He averted her eyes and their sympathetic scrutiny. He didn't tell her the truth, didn't reveal that they hadn't tortured him at all. They didn't have to.

"We'll stop the program." The vid message was waiting on his Cortex. It came not from BSB but the Alliance itself. "We will kill the program and destroy all subjects."

The subjects were twenty children, babies really, between the ages of two months and thirteen. Matty and his team observed and tested the engineered babies, assessing intelligence and medical health over the course of the first year. At that point, the children were put up for adoption. Matty wasn't a virtuous man. He'd done indecent things, things that weren't at all righteous. But twenty little bodies, twenty little souls haunting his dreams every night--that was more than even he could hope to survive. He killed Becca to save not their lives or his own, but his very sanity.

"And the twins?" Lilah asked.

She'd turned to go, fingers sliding through the mesh sleeves of her wrap.

"A girl and a boy. Healthy."

She nodded and moved with fluent grace toward the exit.

---

She moved with the fluent grace of women and warriors.

"Show me what you got," she invited.

He chose speed over strength, hesitant to put marks on the flesh he wanted to taste. Taste again, for he'd sampled its flavor once before.

She landed twice on top of him, sinewy arms spread to pin his hands to the mat.

"Give it to me," she demanded.

She wasn't even out of breath. She should have been out of breath, and they both knew it.

"You're holdin' back."

"Zoe--"

"Take me!"

They scrambled on the mat, each seeking dominion over the other. Now she was perspiring, beads of wet trickling over her temple. She rolled them both, her legs locking around his waist, wispy black curls pulling free of her ponytail. He felt himself harden against her, knew she must have felt it too. When she raised her head to meet his gaze, he used it, took the opportunity to flip her, pin her.

Furious, she struggled against his chest, trying to wriggle free. One knee crept up between his thighs. He forced her legs apart and settled in the space between, effectively preventing her from doing what she intended.

She glared at him, wide-eyed, chest heaving. She was enraged. She was overpowered. Something stirred in her belly.

"I win," he said softly and started to ease off of her.

She didn't explore her own thought process; she didn't care to. She grabbed his face in both hands and lowered his mouth to hers.

Secreted away in his bunk, it took forever to undress each other. He fumbled with her vest so long she tore his hands away, set them instead to the task of undoing her belt. He jerked it open and scrabbled for the zipper. He thrust his hand inside her underwear, plunged two fingers up and into her and caught the resulting whimper with his mouth.

"Now!" she demanded. Her fingers moved efficiently over his fly.

"No." He went back to her vest, working to release her from the leather.

Once again her eyes flashed with rage and something new: need. He drew his lips along the curve of her jaw.

"I want you bare," he whispered, filling his hands with her breasts.

It was fast and frenzied, and she came twice, biting her tongue to keep from sobbing another man's name.

After, she tried to leave. He caught her wrist, tugging her back down beside him.

"Stay for awhile."

"Some of us have work."

"I could hold you. You might like it."

She snorted out a laugh but lied back beside him.

His kisses felt nice on her neck: light as a butterfly's touch and tickly warm. She reached around to cup his head, grateful her back was to him and he couldn't see the tears.

"You're amazing," he murmured into her hair.

Recycled air puffed in through the vents. She let the flow of it dry her face.

--

"No."

"But--"

"Mal."

He huffed out a breath, the warm air tickling her neck.

"You're bein' all manner o' unreasonable."

She wiggled in his lap, knowing the friction would distract him, perhaps save their child the terrible fate its father intended. He moaned softly into her ear, and she angled her neck back, twisting to reach his lips.

"Kiss me," she murmured.

He leaned forward to taste her. It was several seconds before he recalled the flow of their argument.

"Huh."

"Hmm?" She kept her lashes low, her eyes soft slits underneath.

"I can't believe it." He shook his head, feigning disgust. "The woman carrying my child is sitting here in my lap--sitting in my own cockpit, mind you--and usin' her wiles on me."

Inara lifted a brow.

"That's a little overdramatic."

"It's just the right dramatic! My pregnant girlfriend is tryin' to manipulate me with her womanly wiles. I think I got reason to be rattled."

She abandoned the charade, more annoyed at herself for being caught than at Mal for catching her.

"You can just stop, Mal. Stop right now. No way in this 'verse will you convince me to name our daughter Serenity."

"It's a nice name!"

"For a ship, yes. For a little girl on the other hand..."

"Ain't like the other kids gonna make fun, darlin'."

"Mmm." She reached around to stroke the back of his head. "Do you ever think about the future, Mal?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean...desires. Plans. Do you think about those?"

"Sure I do. Like in a few minutes, I plan to pick you up and haul you off to bed."

"I'm serious, Mal."

"Inara...I quit plannin' for the future when I realized I weren't owed one. When you're growin' up, there's a tendency to assume you'll, well, grow up."

Sure he saw death from time to time. Horse had to be put down when he was eight. Kitten was born too small. Frail old woman owned the theatre in town and a classmate who drowned himself in the lake. Still, those folk were them--Mrs. Brattle and Benny Liu. They weren't him. He was young and healthy and strong. He wouldn't wind up in a narrow little box made outta wood. He saw an awful lot of boys just as young, just as strong, go home from the Valley in boxes. 'Course some of 'em never made it home.

"Not no one's entitled to nothin'. And God--well, he don't take kindly to planners. Hell, he'll laugh in your face 'fore he honors your noble intentions."

"So, what, then? There's no sense in trying to plot your own destiny? What about free will?"

"Oh, it's there. You can choose to work or can choose to starve. Me, I got a powerful need to eat."

"Oh, well, that's a lovely attitude. I hope our child inherits your sun-shiny outlook."

"Better than her believin' in a lie."

"I'm not saying you should look to Him for help, Mal. I just wish you'd stop assuming He's out to screw you."

"Ain't such a leap, sweetheart."

"What about me, Mal? Hmm? What about us?"

"Us?" His tone softened. "Us means somewhere those million monkeys with their million computers finally finished that sonnet. Us ain't logical or sensible. Us sure as shit ain't likely. But it's the most beautiful, miraculous thing I've seen in the whole of this 'verse."

"And that doesn't imbue you with some measure of faith?" she asked, gently.

He was silent a moment.

"Guess maybe it lets me hope," he said at last. "Is that enough?"

"It's enough," she told him.

"Huh. Hope." He raised a brow. "That's sorta pretty-sounding."

She turned to meet his gaze, lips curving.

"Hope," she appraised.

"Hope...Reynolds?"

She smiled, nodding her approval.

"Huh. Well, look at that. Named our kid without even coming to blows. Honey...I think we've grown."

"One of us, at least." She spread her fingers over her belly.

"I'm sorta likin' it. In fact, thinkin' I might just keep you this way. You know, barefoot and--"

"I will hit you, Mal. Don't mistake my delicate state for weakness. One more sexist syllable, and I'm going to let you have it."

He smirked, snuggling her closer to his chest.

"Are these the mood swings?"

He managed to dodge the elbow to his ribs.

"Whoa, ho! No need to get nasty, kitten. 'Specially when I was gonna give you my special back rub later."

"You don't have a special back rub."

"Well...yeah. Still, that don't mean--"

"She can't live on this ship, Mal. Not forever, at least." She blurted it out, then froze. She hadn't intended to say it in that way. Carefully, she slid off his lap, turned around to face him.

He waited, as though expecting her to go on. When she didn't, he cleared his throat.

"You talkin' 'bout our...Hope?"

"Yes, Mal."

He stared out at the Black, eyes distant and difficult to read.

"Where else would she live, Nara? I ain't sending my kid away to strangers. Not a chance!"

"That isn't what I mean."

"Maybe you oughta say what you mean."

"I'm trying!"

"Well? I'm listening."

"No, Mal. You're shouting."

"I am not--" He trailed off, lowered his voice to a more muted volume. "--shouting," he finished, somewhat awkwardly. He stood then, took hold of her shoulders and lowered her forcibly into the chair he'd just vacated.

"Should be sitting," he muttered, no quite meeting her gaze.

She sighed, too touched at the concern to bristle at his manhandling.

"Mal...you don't really believe we can stay here forever, live out our lives on Serenity."

"In fact, I do. This ship's my home, Nara. You know that."

"I know, Mal. And I love her almost as much as you. But you can't honestly think this is an appropriate place to raise children."

"Ain't never troubled much over what's appropriate."

"Alright, well what about school? Raven will be ready in a few years."

"So? She can learn stuff right here."

"She needs to interact with children her own age, Mal."

"Well, we're givin' her a little cousin! And hell, it's only a matter o' time 'fore the doc and Kaylee start hatchin' stuff."

"You're right. They will want children one day, probably soon. And what happens then?"

"Whaddaya mean, what happens? It's a big ship."

"That's not really the point." She sighed. "This is a smuggling ship, Mal. The nature of your work mandates a certain amount of danger. How would you feel running jobs with children on board? Not just one child, but several maybe?"

"I...I don't--"

"What if something breaks down? It's happened once. We came very close to dying that day."

"Don't gotta remind me."

"It needn't be today, Mal. Or tomorrow. But someday. That's all I meant to say."

"Figure this ain't a topic I wanna be talkin' on anymore." His eyes were cool now, almost pure gray in shade.

She nodded.

"I understand. I do love her, Mal. Not as much as you, perhaps. But I'm grateful for everything she's given me. And for all she's given you."

"I know y'are."

"Will you come to bed?"

He shrugged, turned to stare sulkily out at the sky.

"Think I'm gonna stay up awhile."

"Alright." She stood on tip toe, brushed a kiss over his cheek. "I love you, Mal."

She kissed his lips to stopper any reply and left the bridge in a swirl of silk and perfume.

Alone, he collapsed back in the vacant pilot's chair, stacking his boots on the console before him. Deliberately at first, then almost instinctively, his fingers caressed the worn leather of the arm rests, his eyes following the pinpricks of light: faraway stars floating endlessly through an ocean of sweet-shielding black. He was half asleep when the message alert sounded, indicating an incoming wave.

He flipped three switched and shook his head to clear sleep-fogged sight.

"Yeah," he said by way of greeting.

Squiggly lines zigged and zagged before her face filled the screen.

"Malcom."

"Emmy." He sat up straighter. "Hi."

She smiled through the cortex. If vid quality were somewhat improved, he'd have seen the tight little lines around her mouth, the dark smudges that half-mooned her sleep-starved orbs.

"Hi, Mal."

"Been meanin' to wave you. Got some news. Thought maybe we could stop by your world sometime soonish. If you wanted, I mean... Seems I'm gonna be a daddy."

"I have news too, Mal." From a million miles away, Emmy averted her eyes. "It seems you already are."

---

It was just sex.

Didn't matter how comely she was, how brave or beauteous or brainy. Didn't matter that sometimes, when it was just the two of 'em, she liked holding his hand--her delicate little digits stroking his, their palms cupping in sweaty, unseemly pleasure. Didn't matter that she slept in his tee shirts, slept curled on her side like a kid, clutching his arm like he was some gorramn teddy bear. Didn't matter that he let her.

It was just sex. It was damn good sex.

And if sometimes they snuggled some after and talked 'bout their days and such...well what was wrong with that?

Gettin' her those gifts, though--that was the kind o' think folk could misconstrue if'n they was nosy and didn't know better.

"It isn't my birthday."

"Know that."

"Hmm." She'd eyed the bag suspiciously.

"Ai ya, you gonna open it already or stand there starin'?"

Weren't anythin' to make a fuss o'er, really. A handful of butterfly clips for her hair. A music box with a battered ballerina who wouldn't dance. He offered to fix it. She said she liked her broke.

Just a few trinkets, just 'cuz he happened to see 'em.

Anyway, the sex was good.

She smelled good, too. Like Serenity kinda. Smoke and ozone and electronics. Oil. Metal. Coffee the Cap'n favored and Kaylee's famous cinnamon rolls. Doc's antiseptics and Nara's heady incense. Course, girl had her own smells. Light sweat after a workout. Or a romp. The pleasing, powdery scent of her bath soap.

One whiff of her had his John Thomas saluting.

Like now. Girl looked mighty good in his bed, his big tee shirt slipping off her skinny shoulder, her hair all strewn across the pillows. If'n she didn't look so ruttin' relaxed he mighta woke her with kisses, coaxed her into a little play. As it was, he didn't have it in him to disturb her. Probably he was just tired. Long day an' all, what with the Cap'n bein' crazed.

In the dark, he stripped off his shirt and trousers and tossed them over a chair. He crawled into bed in his skivvies, took up his place on the fringe. G'ramn girl slept right in the middle o' the mattress.

He fell asleep listening to her breathe, woke up to the wound of her whimpering. He let her thrash like that, she'd wake half the ship.

He wrapped his arms around her torso, trying to keep her tight little fists from cuffing him in the face. This was the worst one so far. Ever since Mal's bombshell last week, she'd been actin' strangely. Point of fact, she weren't the only one. Cap'n was damn near out of his head.

"We're goin' to 'Siris, Cap'n?"

"That's what I said, Kaylee."

"Jesus Christ," Simon muttered.

"Sir...we're just gonna land there, Sir?"

"Mal, this is crazy. You can't just storm into a woman's house and demand her baby!"

"She's dead, Nara. The surrogate: she died last night."

For a long moment, no one spoke.

"Somethin' else," Mal said after a beat. He cleared his throat a few times, tried to meet River's eyes. Girl wouldn't look at him, wouldn't even raise her chin off her chest. Jayne knew then--knew that whatever was gonna come outta Mal's mouth, girl already knew it her own self.

"There's two of 'em," he said softly, in a voice he used to speak to the dying. "They made two."

Kaylee blinked wildly. Simon looked sick.

River hadn't done a ruttin' thing...

Eventually she quit flapping beside him and was still. He thought maybe she'd drifted off again. Relieved that the nightmare was past, he bent his head and pressed a kiss to her crown.

"Thanks for trying," she murmured.

He froze. He felt guilty, though for what he wasn't sure.

"Hell, girl. Didn't do nothin'." He thought a moment. "Musta been a pretty bad dream. Thinkin' on tomorrow's fight?"

"No." She burrowed into his side, her narrow back digging into his rib cage. Kid couldn't get much closer if she tried. "One from yesterday."

Three months and he was startin' to have a handle on her word games. By yesterday she musta meant that massacre all those months back. He felt sorta smart for seein' into the truth of it right off.

"What was it like?" His tongue felt dry, big and heavy and awkward in his mouth. He didn't wanna know the specifics of what was done to her—had seen it all plenty clear from the bruises.

"Like drowning. Water all around. Water in your eyes and your ears and your lungs. Can't breathe. Choking. Burning. Try to breach the surface, fill your lungs with cool clean air. Most you can do is suck in a breath. Not enough. Water slaps at your ribs. Pain. You're sinking. You're dying."

" 'Cept you didn't die." He stuck his hand under her nightshirt, pressed it against the bare flesh of her chest. "Hear that, River-girl? Engine's still runnin'."

"Parts missing." She didn't look like a weapon now. She looked like a rag doll, all long limbs and long hair. Fragile warrior. Fierce child. "They won, beat me."

"You didn't get beat, girl. Just lost is all. And there's a galaxy of difference betwixt those two."

"How?"

"Kept gettin' up till you couldn't get up no more. Kept fightin'. Even though there were three of 'em and one o' you, you didn't never give up. Way I see it, they don't win till you let 'em. They didn't beat you, baby. You lost is all."

She seemed to think on that some.

"Stronger now," she said finally.

"Yep."

She rolled over in his arms. Her eyes were huge as the 'verse, bright as the ruttin' stars.

"Show me the other side of pain."

He slid on top and did his best to show her.

---


	27. Chapter 27

---

Her fingers curled around his shoulder.

"Ahh!"

"I thought we'd established that the small, concealable weapons go to the left of the place setting."

"And I thought we'd established that sneakin' up on a man when he's got his weapons out ain't perhaps the brightest notion. Sides, this run ain't a place for concealables. Bound to be big and bad."

He wrapped an arm around her waist, bending his head to kiss her gently-expanding belly. She recalled her first meeting with Malcom Reynolds--bitter ex-Browncoat, pirate-smuggler. If anyone ever told her that the crotchety man with his suspenders, his foul moods would one day press kisses to her tummy--well, she likely would have cracked a rib or two with the laughing.

She slipped from his grasp, moved around the table and took a seat opposite.

"Your stepmother sent another wave."

"Huh."

"She wanted our ETA."

"You tell her?"

"No, Mal." She folded her hands over the rough grain of the wood. "I didn't tell her anything."

"Good. Think I'm being a hwoon dan?"

"No. I think you're hurt. You trusted her, and now you feel that trust was betrayed."

"She ain't nobody to me."

"But she was somebody to your father."

"Yeah, well. Shoulda known better. Trusting the wrong people's a good way to get yourself dead."

"Trust doesn't come easily to you. You have this...this sense of nobility."

He snorted a laugh.

"I ain't exactly noble, Nara."

"Yes, you are! You are in ways you don't even realize, Mal. And sometimes it frightens me."

He looked up from his guns, and when he spoke again his tone was softer.

"I frighten you?"

"Sometimes," she admitted.

"Well, that's just shiny. My pregnant girlfriend is afeared of me."

She let out a sigh.

"I wish you'd stop calling me that."

"My girlfriend?"

"Your 'pregnant girlfriend.' " She rolled ebony eyes at the ceiling. "As though to distinguish me from all the others."

He smirked.

"You're my one and only, kitten."

"I'm not afraid of you, Mal." She met his gaze. "I'm afraid of your sense of nobility...of one day violating it."

"You wouldn't ever keep somethin' like that from me, Nara. You wouldn't lie to me for three months."

"Would you ever lie to me, Mal?"

He started to shake his head.

"Are you sure? What if you thought you were protecting me?"

He turned the pistol over in his hands.

"That's playing dirty, darlin'."

Her lips curved.

"I'm sleeping with a criminal, remember? Surely, I've learned a thing or two."

She walked back to his chair, her heeled sandals clicking on the decking. Only Inara Serra wore heels while she was with child. She made it effortless, glamorous even. Mal tilted his head back to receive her kiss.

"I love you." He caught her hand and squeezed. "Both of you."

She felt his lashes flutter against her cheek as he kissed her again.

"I love you, too," she murmured.

"Inara...I need you to promise me something."

"Mal--"

"No, listen to me. Please. Next few hours...there's a potential for things to get bad."

"I understand."

"Do you?" His hand trailed almost absently over her belly. "When Serenity breaks atmo on Osiris, I want you to stay on the ship. Hush, now; don't fight me. I need you here, Nara. I need to know you're safe."

She ran her fingers across his temple, skating them lightly over his eyelids.

"You can't possibly know the pain of watching you go," she whispered, the words flowing out in Arabic instead of English.

"Hey," he said, blinking. "What'd you say just then? What's that mean?"

"It means I'll do as you asked, Mal."

---

Pain. A dull, faithful ache, just enough to rouse her from sleep.

She blinked a few times, trying to decide what was wrong. Mal napped at his desk, passed out atop his pages with the lamp still burning. She wanted to call him to bed, cajole him to sleep a few hours before they entered Osiris' orbit. But something had her hesitating. Wait. Wait.

The bed felt wrong, awkward under her back, digging in at spots. And there was something else Something…wet.

She put her hand between her legs, lifted it up to see. The tips of her fingers shone crimson in the lamplight.

Unable to help herself, she moaned.

At the desk, Mal snapped awake.

"Huh-wha?" He glanced at the bed, eyes still fuzzy from exhaustion, sore from scouring blueprints. Immediately, he was at her side.

"What's wrong?" He tried to stroke her hair. "Inara? Baby, tell me."

She drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them there, trying to curtail the pain pummeling her midsection.

Finally, he caught hold of her hand, saw red.

"Jesus."

He pulled the covers off her. Eyes dry to the point of burning, he raked his gaze down her nightgown, let it roam over the bedclothes.

"It's okay," he said though clearly it was not. "I'm just gonna…."

Gonna what? He trailed off, realizing he didn't know. He made a move to part her legs, saw quickly it was the wrong one. She gasped in a breath and pushed his hands away.

"I'm sorry. I just…I gotta know how bad you're….Jesus." He stood up, of a mind to pace. This weren't the War, and she surely weren't one of his squadron. "I'm gonna get you a towel, shi? You can put it between…okay?"

She nodded, pupils dark as the Black, dilated so far as to swallow the whites of her eyes. He wondered if she were going into shock.

He went into the washroom and got a towel. For long, sweaty moments he considered shattering the mirror with his bare fist. He envisioned how the jagged shards would slice up his flesh, the satisfying sound they'd make, falling like hail against the sink. Sucking in air, he resisted the urge to do violence. Losin' it now would only upset her further.

"I'm gonna get the doc." He laid the towel at her side, careful not to touch her again. "Okay?" He didn't know why he'd asked that. Regardless of how she answered, he'd be getting Simon.

"Will you get Zoe too?" she whispered.

"You want—? I'll get her."

"Thank you, Mal."

Her face disappeared into the curve of her knees, shoulders heaving with silent sobs and something else, something what hit him harder than fists. Fear. Ai ya, she was scared. And he couldn't say a single thing to soothe her. He went for Simon, his own impotence here a stinging blow to the heart.

---

"Hit me."

She hit him. He blocked the punch with his mitt, watched her dance back on nimble toes.

"Faster," he called, moving the mitts in random circles. "Harder."

She smiled.

"You sound like Zoe did last night."

He took a minute to digest that one. The slip cost him the use of his kidneys.

"Sorry, Gideon."

She pulled him to his feet, a grin tugging her lips up at the corners.

"You certainly look contrite," he told her, bending to catch his breath.

She nodded, adjusting her boxing gloves.

He shook his head.

"That was my sarcastic voice, River."

"It was good."

"Brat."

"Coma boy."

"Let me come."

Her eyes softened.

"Not up to me," she told him.

"Screw Mal."

"Already have a boyfriend."

He glared at her, blue eyes warring between annoyance and amusement. Finally he gave up, lowered himself to the floor of the cargo bay with a long-suffering sigh. She sat beside him, legs bent Indian style. Rocking forward, she reached out a hand to pat his knee.

"Gotta stay with Serenity, Gideon. Keep her safe."

"And you, River? Who's gonna keep you safe?"

She smiled.

"I like you, Gideon."

"I--I like you too. Not, you know, romantically, but in a--"

"--totally platonic except for that one time we had sexual relations sort of way?"

He smirked.

"I'm not your brother. Or Mal. It takes more than that to make me blush, River."

"So I can tell the rest of the crew about your tattoo?"

"I--oh, that's just evil."

"It's okay." She stared at him, wide-eyed innocence. "Space Hellions really do rock."

---

At the entrance to the shuttle, Zoe paused, laid a halting hand on his chest.

"Wait here, Sir."

"What? Zoe, she's my—" He stopped, realizing he didn't have an appropriate way of ending the sentence.

-What is she, Mal? Wife, girlfriend, lover? How 'bout the woman whose life you're steadily destroying, thieving another piece every day, taking and taking until there's not a rutting thing left to take? You cost her the job she loved, made her feel it wasn't good enough. Too low for the righteous Malcom Reynolds, even though everything she was, everything she is and ever will be, is greater than you. You cost her friends: too many to name. Nandi. That name stood out. And now, 'cuz she made the mistake of knowing Malcom Reynolds, she's lyin' on a bed bleeding. She's hurting, and someone like her shouldn't never hurt. She oughta be in a garden somewhere, swaying in her silks and inhaling the lilacs. Dear God, she shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be with you—no. No.-

He forced himself to draw an unsteady breath. That was the old Mal talking. The one went into Hell and opted to stay there. And if Inara could hear the old Mal right now—well, she'd have no qualms over chewing out the new one.

"I know," Zoe said, and he wondered if she really did: if she knew all his poisonous thoughts.

"You…you go be with her." He choked a little on the last word, though both ignored it.

"I'll do that, Sir."

She left him in the hall, left him staring after the spot where she disappeared. On shaky legs, he lowered himself to the floor, rested his back against cool metal.

"Cap'n?"

Kaylee, shivering in thin pajamas. A cheerful cherry-print: very Kaylee.

"Nara gonna be okay, Cap'n?"

Mal cleared his throat, tried to make his face reassuring. If her expression was any indicator, his face just weren't built for reassuring. Prolly didn't help none, him cowering on the floor.

"Doc's in with her now, Lil' Kaylee."

"Simon's the best, Cap'n." She sat beside him. Musta made her legs ache, sitting on the cold floor in just her shorts. "Don't you worry."

Just who was comforting whom, here? He felt her hand on his knee and lowered his chin to his chest, eager to hide his eyes.

"She…." He had to start again, concentrate on the words themselves so his voice wouldn't waver. "She wanted Zoe, not me."

"Well…of all of us, Zoe's the only one been through havin' a baby. Maybe she—"

"She's three months along, Kaylee. Nara ain't havin' that baby." And saying it, he realized its truth. "Jesus," he whispered.

Next thing, she was holding him, rubbing his back while he wept into her lap.

"She's strong, Cap'n. The both of you always been so strong."

"I gotta—" He sat up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Still the job to do."

That's what it was: a job. Just like any other….

"Can I count on you, Kaylee? Take care o' things while I'm gone?"

"Always could, Cap'n."

Even now, she tried to smile for him.

"Good girl," he said roughly. He patted her shoulder and strode off to ready the crew.

---

They sailed in on Shuttle Two, her sleek silver body cutting across the blue of the sky. Seemed to Jayne it was always clear and sunny on the Core. 'Liance prolly found some feng luh way to manipulate weather, too. Hard as it was to swallow, Mal was right. Someone had to stop these folk. Not for the first time, Jayne wished someone weren't him.

He watched River fly, her small hands shaking on the controls.

"Cap'n." Jayne jerked his head in the girl's direction.

Mal gave a short nod.

"Check the ammo, Jayne." He knelt by River's chair. "How we faring, Lil' Albatross?" he asked quietly.

"Scared." She smiled an apology, white knuckles clutching the yoke.

"Good. Anyone ain't scared on a day like today…well they's either stupid or crazy."

"Hell, Mal." Behind them, Jayne loaded his rifle. "I ain't scared."

Mal found his lips curving. He met River's gaze.

"See? Hold up a sec: this is it." He craned his neck, eyes scanning the landscape. "That's the gray estate, just ahead."

"Take her down in the woods?" Jayne asked. "Maybe approach from the west?"

"Nope. You're gonna land her right there on that finely-manicured lawn, Lil' Albatross."

"Jesus, Mal. We just gonna march on up and ring the bell?"

"Lest you're of a mind to slide down the chimney, Jayne."

"Quite the stealthy plan, Cap'n. Must took you a whole five minutes to come up with that bit o' genius."

"Oh, but it is genius. They'd never expect us to be so ruttin' dumb. That's the geniusy bit."

"I don't wanna go!"

Both men looked up.

"Oh, God," River wailed. "Don't make me!"

Jayne tried to go to her, but Mal's arm shot out, blocking his path.

"River?" He squeezed her shoulder, ignoring the merc's menacing glare. "Tell me."

"Ones called the Triumvirate." She grasped his forearm, nails gouging deep enough to draw blood. "They're here to guard the children."

He stood slowly, oblivious to the crimson crescents adorning his arm.

"Sweet Ye su. You—you're sure?"

"She'd know," Jayne muttered.

"They're waiting for me," River murmured, her eyes soft and dreamy now. "They wanna end Sister's suffering."

Mal stared at the small girl curled in the pilot's seat. She wasn't the fierce warrior what slew all those Reavers. She wasn't the brilliant kid who outwitted Early nor the sure shot what took out Niska's men. She wasn't even that child he found stashed in a box: precious cargo, his for the keeping. She was crazy then, small and helpless and hurting. The girl who sat before him weren't crazy. Neither was she helpless or a child even. She was just too damn tired.

Mal collapsed in the co-pilot's seat, seizing control of the shuttle.

"Jayne," he hissed.

The big man seemed to understand. He caught the girl under the arms and dragged her tight, lithe length against his torso.

"Gorammit listen to me, girl."

River scowled.

"Don't hafta shout, even your thoughts are loud."

"Aw, you don't know what I'm thinkin'."

Her eyes flashed in annoyance.

"Do too."

The swayed as the shuttle went down. Jayne grasped at the wall to stay upright.

"Jayne." Mal's laugh was short, humorless. "If you think now's the time for a lover's spat…."

"Prove it, girl." Jayne shook her hard enough to have her head lolling back. "What am I thinking? Dammit, River, say what I'm thinking!"

The shuttle hit dirt, or in this case, fresh sod.

Jayne let go of the wall. Without releasing his hold on her, Jayne jerked the girl's chin till their eyes met.

"River--"

"—that I'll win. You think I'll win." She slid her gaze to Mal. "Time to misbehave."

The hatch opened with a creak, sending sunlight shooting into their eyes. If you had to go out…well, might as well go out on a day like today. Course Jayne had no intention o' goin' anywhere.

They were fanned out in front of the porch: a generous wraparound with ivy climbing the sides. Three of 'em, and they didn't look like much—just kids an' not much older than Crazy Girl…River. Two boys and girl. One of the boys had a scar, a shiny pink line that ran the length of his face. The other was stockier, blond. The girl wore her hair twisted in a ponytail. They dressed all in blue, a pale shade of it not unlike the sky that day, with matching stockings and clean white boots. How'd they keep their boots so spotless? Jayne mused.

You be the three punks what beat on my pilot?'' Mal asked.

The ignored him, a feat Jayne found mildly impressive seein' how he'd never be able to do the same.

Last time we had orders to bring you home, 07.'' The one with the Scar spoke directly to River. Not this time."

Mal eyed Jayne subtly. Jayne raised a brow. Somewhat less subtly, Mal jerked his head at Jayne's weapon, motioned to the trio. Jayne nodded. With impressive symmetry, they shouldered their rifles and opened fire on the three.

Was like shootin' at mosquitos through a fog.

The blond and the girl with the ponytail twisted and weaved, while closing the gap between themselves and the shooters. One minute Mal was aiming his weapon at the gold-haired one what moved like River, and the next—well he wasn't precisely sure how he ended up face-down on the lawn with his own rifle pointed at his head, but it might have had something to do with sharp pain in his belly.

Jayne weren't doing so good himself. He still held Vera at high port, but the ponytailed girl stood behind him, pointing the merc's own Bowie knife at his throat.

Through the whole of the exchange, River's eyes never wavered from the sad, steely gaze of the one with the scar. He flicked a dismissive hand at the two men being held by his comrades.

This is the reason for your desertion? They aren't blood to you. They can't possibly understand who we are or why we fight."

"They understand." She looked at Mal, a ghost of a smile lifting her lips. "They just don't comprehend."

"They're pathetic. Coarse criminals."

"They have their moments. Still." She shrugged. "Family's family."

"Once we were your family, 07."

Not anymore. Big brother and sister-in-law. Friends. Lover." Her gaze flickered over Jayne in a way that made him far less uncomfortable than he was…well, comfortable with. "Babies in their beds—shouldn't have been made. But they did it. Foolish men playing God, cutting out bits, taking and shaping. Selfish men, send children to fight their wars. My children. Mine….I'm taking back what's mine."

"You can try…."

"…but you'll fail…."

"…and we'll kill you."

He moved like a lynx—small and fierce, catlike in his grace. He stood before River, the others releasing Mal and Jayne to join him.

Run if you want to live," he intoned. "We'll kill you when we're through with her."

Mal rose slowly, watching the trio circle.

Get our babies, Captain,'' she said quietly.

Mal wasn't used to taking orders from, well, anyone. Certainly not his little albatross: ninety pounds in wet clothes. Pride aside, Mal knew full-well the kid was capable of giving himself and every member of his crew a good and solid ass kicking. Still, he was the captain. Shouldn't he have at least the illusion of authority? Maybe he couldn't protect her—any of them—in the long haul. He'd already lost one life today, though. He surely didn't mean to lose another.

"River—"

"Go!"

He saw something in her eyes then. Like she was a dam and somebody opening her floodgates. Oh, he'd glimpsed this side of her before. Power and purpose and conviction. He'd seen the warrior woman what took down those Reavers. But this—put-upon mother, fighting for her family, for kids she ain't never asked for, babies shouldn't rightfully be there—well, that was bound to be something new.

He almost felt sorry for those three. Uh...no.

Jayne...'' he murmured, his voice not quite a question because he didn't have to ask.

I got her back.''

Mal abandoned his empty rifle in favor of his pistol and sprinted for the house.

---

The knob turned easily in his hand. Mal stared down at it, dumbfounded. A trio of assassins but no door locks.

"Rich people," he muttered, unholstering his pistol.

Inside, he searched the first floor for signs of life. Eight rooms, nine maybe? All of it smart as a showroom, pretty too, or Nara woulda said so anyways. Inara. Can't think on that now. Gotta focus. Focus on the here and now. Do the job, Mal. Do the job.

He weaved through the dining room, with its candlesticks, the bowl of bruised fruit. Everything was eerie-quiet. Like a dollhouse…like a tomb. He started toward the kitchen, felt something rise up to halt his path. It was a baby gate, the white plastic smooth and hip-height. Awkwardly, he hopped it, noting the way the sides hugged the wall, protecting curious little hands from the dangers of…what? Dear God, he hadn't a clue what kids could get into. How in the nine Hells did Zoe do it?

He wandered past the icebox, stopping to pluck a capture from the door. A woman, red hair cut short as a boy's, eyes soft and crinkly. She was laughing, half her freckled face hidden by her hand as though she were motioning the Captographer away. Someone musta left it on auto-play, first muting the sound. Mal didn't adjust the volume. Something told him he'd never get that woman's giggle out of his head.

Careful to keep his boots from creaking, he climbed the stairs to the second floor. Another gate waited at the landing, placed to safeguard babes who couldn't roll over yet, let alone crawl. Someone planned for these kids, loved them before they were born. Don't matter none, he told himself. That they were wanted don't change that they were stolen.

He knew where they were soon as he spotted the sign. Hand-painted on a wooden rectangle, the blue and yellow letters curved around like a bow: NURSERY. He nudged the door open with his shoulder and froze. Casually, he lowered his gun to his side.

If the rest of the estate were in an art show, then this room was the pièce de ruttin' résistance. He didn't belong in this place, all light and airy and expensive. And yet the thieved fruits of his loins slept soundly in their cradles, neither one aware that all these riches weren't rightly theirs. For another thirty minutes or so, they was the wealthiest little babies this side o' the Sun. He pondered that awhile, how seemingly unjust it was, cradling their fates in his work-roughened hands. All this was beautiful, really and truly. But none of it—not safety gates, cradles, pastel sleeper suits nor sweet baby mobiles—should rightfully exist. Was all of it stemmed from deception.

Not two weeks old and already the mother that bore them lay under the ground. He'd rescue them from this, but rescue 'em to what? In truth, he couldn't predict. Weren't he helpless here as when Nara lost Hope? He couldn't save that child, nor preserve her mama from pain. He hadn't a single assurance these kids wouldn't suffer the same end as the little sister they'd never know. He couldn't promise. But, ai ya, he was gonna try.

First he had to do somethin' 'bout that gun leveled at his chest.

"Gray."

"Captain Reynolds."

He looked older than Mal remembered. Dark half moons swallowed the undersides of his eyes, and his pale face was unshaven.

"Forgive me, Captain. I know I should play the villain of this piece and harangue you with witty dialogue. Unfortunately, I'm not feeling particularly witty today."

"No." His voice was tight. "Seems neither of us is havin' a good day."

"Esmerelda sent me a wave. She said you were coming, and that I should go." Man weren't all there, eyes flickering on a point far away: somethin' he and no other could see. "She also said that woman was ill--Miss Serra. Inara, is it?"

"She was pregnant. Now she's not."

"I'm sorry, Mal."

Mal nodded.

"Thank you." For once his words lacked a snappy edge. "And I'm sorry 'bout your wife. Emmy said she was somethin' special. Guess she musta been."

"She was."

Without loosing his grip on the weapon, Gray lowered himself to the rocking chair, upholstered with some soft-looking cushions the color of mustard seed. He swayed, back and forth, back and forth. After a moment, he gestured to a matching yellow bench seat under the window.

"Sit if you like."

"No, thanks. I prefer to die standing."

Gray glanced down at his hand: the one holding the gun.

"Are you thinking it too?"

"That this is oddly familiar?" Mal raised a brow. "Thought did cross my mind."

"That girl...River Tam. It wasn't personal."

"Felt pretty personal to her brother. Reckon it was sorta personal for me 'swell."

---

River twisted, trying to maintain visual for her ever-turning trio of opponents. Jayne watched her move, her short skirt bouncing over smooth and shapely thighs. She was wearin' shorts under there, but still. Gorrammit, he weren't jealous. Right. He comforted himself with the knowing that these three wouldn't live to say what they seen.

You handlin' this, girl?''

"Handling it, Jayne."

The strike came without warning, quicker than Jayne expected, worse than he could stomach.

Move, girl! MOVE!

Feet and hands flew at his lover faster than anything he'd seen. Trio kept right on comin' at her, every punch and kick synchronized, as though they was the same ruttin' person and not three. But it didn't make no difference. River stood in the center of the torrent. Like she decided that that was her spot and she weren't bein' moved. She leaned and twisted and swayed, flowing to her own internal rhythm, while the three around her did their level best to beat her down.

Jayne paced around the perimeter, tying to get an angle on one of the tree. But there weren't no line of fire that didn't include River, and he'd only slow her down if he tried to help, hand-to-hand.

"Girl?"

"Little…busy."

"Ain't just sex!"

She tilted her head, giving her best incredulous face.

"You know…case we die. Not that I think we're gonna!" He made an effort to look sure for her. Wounded his ego some to admit it, but she didn't seem to need no assurances. He said it anyway, just in case. "Not nobody's dyin' today, girl."

The music guiding her moves seemed to shift. And just like that, girl changed the rules. Instead of dodging, she turned on the offensive, flinging her body horizontal in a fluid butterfly kick. All three attackers stumbled back, reeling from a fist or a foot to the head.

"Wrong, Jayne. Somebody always dies."

---

He rocked softly, one hand holding the pistol, the other wound 'round a small plush bear. Seemed to Mal he cradled the gun while aiming the teddy like a weapon.

"Do you like my house, Mal?"

"Shuh muh?"

"I take it you've had a tour by now," Gray prompted. "How does it strike you?"

"It's ducky. Every fine brick and brack worth its weight in Browncoat blood."

"Do you think I'm an evil man, Mal?"

"No." Mal let his eyes wander the walls. "'Bout now, I reckon you're just a broken one."

---

Scar flew at her in a rage, leading with a punch. River easily bowed out of his way and grabbed hold of his wrist. Twisting to lock out the joint, she whirled him around, positioning him between her and his comrades. Now she used Scar as a shield. Caught off guard, Blond and Ponytail managed to pull most of their blows. Most of the blows. River attacked with impunity, kicking around Scar's body, raining down a ceaseless series of blows. Finally she pushed the scarred assassin into his comrades' arms and back-flipped away.

Giving herself space for a running head-start, River charged, somersaulting elegantly over Scar's head and cuffing his ears in the process. Blond and Ponytail, who were flanking their leader, turned to face her. Ponytail actually managed to throw a punch which River easily caught, while simultaneously snapping a long back kick to Blonde's temple. Coiling her leg in, she shot it out again, this time angling forward and driving her heel into Ponytail's stomach.

Blond didn't appear to be moving after that kick to the head. River left the brunette to deposit the remains of her lunch on the lawn and swerved her focus to Scar. She whirled just in time to see his fist shooting straight at her face. River didn't bother to block or dodge. Instead, she simply tucked her chin to her chest and leaned into the blow. Instead of hitting the soft bones of her face, Scar's fist collided with the solid crown of her skull.

Even Jayne cringed at the crunch of bones and cartilage.

Stay down,'' River murmured, watching Scar's legs quiver as he attempted to stand.

He rose unsteadily to his feet.

She hit him again, a robust round house to his head.

He swayed violently, collapsed forward and was still. River shivered, slender arms wrapping around herself, as she stared into Scar's wide, unseeing eyes.

Told you to stay down,'' she whispered as Jayne stepped forward to embrace her.

---

"She had names picked out. Devon. Epiphany." Gray pointed to each of the cribs in turn.

"Then that's what we'll call 'em," Mal said quietly.

Gray nodded. Slowly, he rose from the rocker and started for the door. Passing Mal, Gray pressed the butt of the revolver into the younger man's palm.

"I won't report you. It might buy you the time..."

"Don't mistake this for caring, Rex. 'Cuz I'm fairly sure I don't. But you not reportin' us--well, that'd be suicide."

Not a trace of emotion crossed the agent's face.

"The solar system's a big place, Captain. Try to lose yourself in it."

Alone, Mal stared at the babies, first one then the other. They were so very small. He was afraid to carry both at once.

"Captain."

He jumped.

River stood in the doorway. Her hair was mussed a bit more than was usual. Otherwise, she appeared unharmed.

"You, uh...we win?"

River ignored this, looking past him to where the babies slept. She padded across the plush carpet in her bare feet--When did she lose her shoes? Mal wondered--and hovered over one of the pair of matching cribs. She lifted the boy in her arms, cradling his small head against her chest. Mal scooped up the sister in a similar fashion and followed River out the door.

---

She'd been sleeping, or maybe dreaming was the better term. Her head swam with visions: shiny scarlet blood coating creamy white thighs. In her dreams, Rebecca didn't die. She laid on a wide, white bed, crying out to Emmy for help. Sometimes it wasn't Becca's freckled face, but her own. And always Malcom was there, glowering from the corner.

"Inara." That was what he called her, the words bursting from his lips in soft mewl.

After, it was Emmy who woke weeping.

The doorbell sang out, the first few notes of La Marseillaise echoing through the big empty house. She loved the anthem, its symbolism her own private joke. Sometimes those jokes, private ones, were the best kind.

She started down the stairs, hastily donning a long silk robe over her nightgown. She cracked the door, sunlight piercing puffy, sleep-deprived eyes.

"Yes?"

The men were suited, solemn: haloed in the white morning light.

"Esmerelda Fitzgerald?"

"Yes."

"You need to come with us, ma'am."

She tried to close the door. A hand shot out to widen the gap, another snapping forward to ensnare her wrist.

"Do you know your hands are blue?"

Her only answer was the encroaching darkness.

---

Simon stood watching her from the doorway of her bedroom. He hadn't changed from earlier, and specks of blood sullied the pure white of his tee shirt. River blanched, not wanting to think about the owner of all that blood.

She waited for the joke that never came, the brotherly affection disguised with gentle ribbing. He stood unyielding, blinking against the harsh fluorescent overheads. Finally, she sighed, lifted both arms straight in the air in mock surrender.

He crossed the room in three strides. He dragged her up against him, squeezing her in a fierce embrace.

"I'm okay, Simon."

"I can see that."

"Are you okay?"

"You're safe," he answered, brushing a kiss over her temple.

"Home now." She smiled "Inara?"

"Medically speaking, she's doing fine." In every other way, she wasn't at all fine. "River, did you know?"

"Never know...not for sure."

"But you thought she might miscarry?"

She looked at her hands.

"Why didn't you tell me, mei-mei?"

"No good tainting the present with the future. In the end, it's all past."

"River--"

"Aren't my babies pretty?"

His jaw relaxed, blue-gray eyes going soft. He followed her gaze to the cradle Kaylee and Jayne hastily assembled by the bed. The infants slept side by side, swaddled in blankets and snuggled close, as they must have been in the womb.

"They're beautiful, River."

"Help me, Simon?"

He looked at his sister. There was just one thing to say.

"Always, River."

---

He didn't know what he expected to find upon entering his shuttle. Not this: Inara dressed and shined, the crown of her hair still damp from the bath.

She wore a loose blouse the color of peaches and silky black pants that tied with a drawstring. Not exactly her normal attire, but the shirt hid her belly. And the pants--well, Mal figured that was on account of her panties being stuffed with cotton. Least that's how the doc explained it, goin' over all that cold clean medical jargon in his soft, soothing voice. Mal had just stood there, waiting for it to be over, concentrating all his energy on not breaking down right then.

After, he had to stop by the head, pat cold water over his cheeks to keep from retching. Only mildly shaky after, he made his way to the shuttle.

She was perched up against the headboard, back supported with pillows. A book lay open over her lap, but the spine was down. Mal caught a glimpse of the cover before she set it aside--Baby's First Year: What to Expect. He flinched visibly, unable to help it.

"Where'd you get that?"

He didn't mean to say it like that.

She didn't seem offended, merely surprised.

"It's Zoe's. I asked awhile ago if I could borrow it."

"Inara..."

"You should probably read it too, Mal." Her eyes were glassy, unfocused. "You're a father now."

"Just stop it."

"Shuh muh?" she asked, her tone painfully lackadaisical.

"Ai ya, please stop," he whispered.

"I don't understand."

"I wanna hold you."

She stiffened. It was subtle--a slight tightening of the shoulders--but he saw it.

He didn't wanna beg. He would, though. If she wanted, he'd plead on his ruttin' knees.

"Inara...let me in," he murmured.

She sighed, a soft flutter of breath.

"You should be with them...your children. You should stay with them their first night on Serenity."

"Doc and Kaylee lookin' after 'em."

"They're not Simon and Kaylee's, Mal. They're yours."

"I know whose they are!" He exhaled, tried to drag in air more slowly. "We both lost her, Nara. Why won't you let me mourn with you?"

Her face crumpled then and he caught her against his chest, lowering her lips to a spot just over his heart.

"You, uh...you want her with your mama maybe? On Sihnon?"

"No." She cried but wouldn't sob, long streams of tears sluicing silently down her cheeks, wetting his shirt. "I want her with Wash."

"Wash?"

She pulled away, already fighting for control after the all-too-brief release.

"Raven's my goddaughter. It's only fair." She tried to smile.

"With Wash, then," he agreed, throat thick with emotion. "I'll speak to Zoe."

"Thank you."

She slid over, giving him space to sprawl out beside her. He did, not bothering to undress. He was grateful for this at least: being allowed to sleep next to her.

"Do you hurt?" He hesitated, amended the phrasing. "I mean, is somethin' in particular hurting?"

"Simon gave me an injection for the pain."

He nodded.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"I didn't want you here, Mal. What you saw this morning...that was bad enough. That Simon had to be there all day, do what he did...he's very kind, but..." She trailed off, embarrassed.

He tried not to feel stung.

"Ain't anything to be 'shamed over."

"Zoe stayed through everything...held my hand..." She yawned, already fading.

"She's a good friend." Mal held her hand. For now, he'd be content with that.

He watched over her while she slept.

---

In the early hours of the morning, Mal prowled Serenity's halls. A ways away, he heard the distinctive holler of hungry newborns, the hum of voices, feet moving around the galley. Would be Simon and Kaylee, heating bottles of hastily stocked formula from their stopover on Boros. They knew what they were doin' surely, Simon bein' a Core-bred doctor and Kaylee bein', well, Kaylee. Caregivin' came naturally for her as breathin'. Still, didn't make it right. Kids were his. He couldn't pass 'em off on crew forever. Sooner of later, he'd have to take responsibility for what was his.

Operating on what amounted to three hours of dream-plagued sleep, Mal stumbled up to the bridge, collapsed bleary-eyed in the pilot's chair.

"Sir."

"Ai ya!" Mal willed his heart to be normally as he regarded his first mate across the cockpit. "Ain't right, sneakin' up on a man that way."

"Point of fact, sir? I was here first."

"Well...still."

"Mmm." She rose from the co-pilot's chair and crossed the bridge till she stood before him. She leaned back against the console.

"How's Inara?"

"Oh, how you'd expect, I guess. Sleeping now." He looked up, meeting her fixed, even stare. Always unreadable, Zoe was. "Thanks. For bein' with her when I couldn't..."

"Don't have to thank me, sir. Nara's a friend."

He nodded.

"You okay, Captain?"

"Uh-huh."

"Look like hell."

"Thanks for sayin'."

"Captain...Mal...what is it?"

He fought for control.

"You know what I did today, Zoe?"

"What'd you do, sir?"

"I damned us all to Hell is what. 'Liance ain't never gonna quit lookin' for us now. I just signed our gorramn death certificates."

"Shh."

He let her hold him, press his face to the crook of her neck. She smelled nice and clean--like baby powder and the living. Hadn't he told the chick that him and her mama didn't hug? He guessed there was an exception for days like today.

"I didn't ask any of 'em whether they wanted to do it, whether they wanted to give up their lives today."

"Got a good crew, sir. Do just about anything for you."

"They have. More 'n once. Ai ya, they shouldn't. You and me, Zoe. Hell, we been damned since the Valley. We never left it. But the others? Kaylee and the doc. Inara...Oh, God, Inara..."

"Sir? Mal." She turned his face, compelling him to meet her gaze. "Do you remember Niska's train job? Way back when? You recall returnin' those med supplies to that sheriff?"

"Feels like an eon ago."

"Wasn't that long, Sir. That lawman--he said something to you. When a man learns all the facts of somethin'...he has a choice to do what's right or not. And you know what you said, Sir?"

"I really don't."

"You said you don't believe he does have a choice." She leaned forward, pressed her lips to his temple. "You made the only choice you could, Mal."

"Things are gonna get worse, you know."

She snorted.

"Seems they always do."

"I ain't just gonna roll over an' take it this time." His eyes flashed with barely-contained fury. "The want a fight, I'll show 'em one."

"Some things are worth fighting for, Sir. Dying for."

"That they are, Zoe. 'Cept I ain't of a mind to die."

"Been with you since the Valley, I'll be with you till the end. One way or another."

"Difference betwixt then and now is ain't nobody gonna say lay down arms." He shook his head. "No retreat. No surrender."

"So what's our next move, Captain Reynolds, sir?"

Her lips twitched at the last, and he smirked darkly.

"Offense, Zoe."

---

TBC in 28. Author pleads for feedback!


	28. Chapter 28

---

Mal dropped down in the seat, dismissing Zoe with a nod. Beyond the cockpit, the Black loomed like a shield. He couldn't help but wonder if the armor would hold.

"Mr. Kane."

"Malcom." Kane offered a weary smile. "I apologize for the delay in returning your wave. Things have been…frenzied."

"Just glad you got back to me at all, Sir. Me and mine ain't exactly popular these days."

"From what I hear, you and yours are a bit -too- popular."

"Yeah. Yeah, that too. Anyways, I am grateful."

"Please." Kane held up a hand. "I hope you'll consider me a friend, Mal. Your father did. Now, what can I do for you, son?"

"Actually, Mr. Kane, was hopin' I could do for you. Now I ain't claimin' expertise as to the nature of your business. So you just tell me if I'm overstepping. But I been doin' jobs for you these past months—transport hauls and runnin' guns. Didn't ever ask any questions—mostly 'cuz I wasn't looking to know the answers. Now though…well, guess you could say my priorities have shifted. I'm done running, Mr. Kane. I aim to end this now."

Kane tipped back in his chair, puffed thoughtfully at his cigar.

"May I ask what prompted this move?"

"You know 'Liance is after Serenity?"

"Yes. I'm afraid a fresh warrant for your arrest came in off the Cortex."

"Good capture?"

The older man smiled.

"No worse than the ones on your last couple warrants."

Mal smirked.

"Yeah, well. Ain't much for bein' bound. Tends to sour my mood." Mal shrugged, his expression turning serious. "This time…well, things is considerably worse. The Alliance ain't ever gonna quit lookin'. See, I got somethin' belongs to them. Least they think it belongs to 'em."

"Oh?" Kane leaned forward, one scraggly white eyebrow arching with interest. "And what would that be?"

"My children." Mal pressed ahead, intent on dodging the man's questions. He couldn't handle an interrogation just then. "It's a long story and not the shiniest. Suffice it to say, I'm lookin' to protect what's mine. Ain't opposed to dealin' out some pain in the process."

"I can't say I'm surprised, Mal." Kane smiled. "You've always been a Browncoat, even if for awhile you tried not to be one."

"One key difference betwixt then and now." Mal leveled the older man with a steady gaze. "This time I aim to win."

"I aim to win too, Mal. If you'll just give me a moment to…." Kane hesitated, scanning a set of pages.

"Forgive me," he said at last. "The situation here is a bit hectic. You see, we're leaving Bellerophon tonight."

"Trouble?"

"Then you haven't heard yet?"

" 'Fraid I missed the news 'port."

"This morning, Shadow's Neo-Independent group launched coordinated attacks on three Allied Bases. A complex of science labs was also hit."

Mal nodded slowly.

"Huh. Those labs...wouldn't be Blue Sun, would they? Located 'round the forty-fifth mile?"

"Our intel confirmed the presence of BSAFD agents on the premises. We believed the facilities to be property of Blue Sun Brigade."

"Mr. Kane, Sir. Got reason for thinkin' there was children in those labs."

"You...you know this for a fact, Mal?"

"I do."

"I see."

Kane reached for something off-screen. A moment later, he filled a glass tumbler with dark amber liquid. He sipped once, twice, and then downed the contents. He paused to pour a second ration before speaking.

"The Feds fled Shadow after the bombing. There'll be a backlash, surely; the trick is to strike again in the confusion. And be assured, Malcom, strikes are planned. As a precautionary measure, I'm moving my people off Bellerophon this evening at eighteen hundred. If you're decided, Mal...if this is truly what you want...well, I won't turn you down."

"Reckon this ain't been about want for some time."

"I imagine you're right. Malcom, I can't possibly express...this will make a difference. You will make a difference."

"That's what we fought for, Mr. Kane. Different."

"There's something more, Mal. Two somethings, in fact. First, I'd like to send a team to collect your sister."

"Carly? What's she--?"

"She's a way to get at you, Mal. She makes you vulnerable."

"Ta ma duh...you don't think they already...?"

"Not yet. But we need to act now."

Mal jerked his head.

"Do it."

"Consider it done. There's one more thing, Mal. Esmerelda Fitzgerald. According to my sources, she's been missing from her home on Osiris for several days now."

He had to clutch the console; elsewise his hand would have shook.

"Alliance?"

"I think so, Mal. I'm afraid so."

"Then they're hurting her. They're hurting her 'cuz of me."

"Malcom, you don't know that--"

"Can you find her?"

"My people are looking into the matter as we speak. I hope you'll forgive me--you see, I've hoped for this, even gone so far as to plan. I'm sorry for your troubles, of course. But I'm so very pleased that you've come back to us, to our very noble cause. And it is that, Mal: noble. The Browncoats are rising. And when we do, Mal...when we do, I want you there with us."

"What's next on the agenda, Mr. Kane?"

"I think it's time we meet."

"You got friendly dirt in mind?"

"The Alliance sows every field, and beneath every rock is a mine. We'll meet in the Black."

---

Something was changed.

She put on a good show for the crew. She smiled and did up her hair. She wore dresses what cost more than the whole of his wardrobe--okay, that weren't sayin' much--and helped out around the ship with chores and dinner-fixin' and the like.

First day Doc let her outta bed, she went and found River. Inara caught the girl in the corridor, shook her head dismissively at River's murmured apologies.

"I might have known," River whispered. "...what would happen to you."

Guilty, Mal flattened himself against the wall, listening.

"You...oh. Honey, this isn't your fault."

"You're sad."

"Yes." When she spoke again the breathy quality was vanished. "I'll be fine. Now will you let me see your beautiful babies?"

"Might not be beautiful." Mal wondered if River really fell for Nara's charms or if she was just doin' the nice thing and pretending. "Might be ugly."

Inara laughed, almost genuine.

"Oh, well. In that case, let me see those hideous babies."

River frowned.

"Simon has them," she said, biting her lip.

Mal was there when she did lay eyes on 'em for the first time. Was later that night, after they'd eaten. They all trooped down to the passenger dorms. Mal watched from the doorway.

"Howdya like that? Critters finally awake."

"Oh, they're awake plenty, Captain. They're awake at two and again at four. Often, they wake us at six as well."

"Si-mon." Kaylee nudged him; Simon looked remorseful, and Mal looked at the floor.

River seemed oblivious to the tension. She sat cross-legged on the floor, eyeing the blinking bundles through the bars of the cradle.

"Girl one looks like me. Pretty."

"Sure is, honey," Kaylee agreed.

Simon rolled his eyes.

"When she was four, she used to tell us she was the most beautiful little girl on Osiris."

River stuck out her tongue.

"I was precocious." She poked her finger through the bars, and Mal watched the boy clasp the digit tight in his fist. "Boy one looks like Simon."

"That mean he's pretty, too?" Jayne quipped.

The others laughed.

"She has your eyes, Mal." Inara crouched on the floor, skirts fluting out to hide her feet. "Blue eyes and dark hair--it's an unusual combination."

"They ain't exactly usual kids," Mal murmured.

Kaylee broke the silence, cutting through the throng to take hold of his arm.

"Cap'n? Wanna feed one? Epi needs her bottle."

"Epi?"

Kaylee turned pink.

"I didn't mean...just that...Epiphany's real pretty, Cap'n. Just a big name for such a little girl."

"It's fine, Kaylee."

"You're the one who gets up with her, Kaylee." Simon kept his tone purposely mild. "I would think that entitles you to naming privileges."

There was a second heavy silence in which Kaylee looked stricken and Mal looked something between angry and shameful.

Inara looked all manner of undefinable, and River didn't look up.

"Their birth mother picked out the names. Figured she's entitled to that much of 'em." Mal cleared his throat. "Anyway, I think Epi's fitting. You gonna show me how to do this, Kaylee? For some reason, I can't recall the Chick bein' so tiny."

"Sure, sure, Cap." Bubbly again, Kaylee escorted him to the bed, pushed him so he was sitting. When he was settled, she snuggled the baby in his arms. "How's she feel?"

"She...I..."

He caught a glimpse of Nara across the room, her wide dark eyes expressionless. The baby squirmed in his lap, and he looked down, checking to be sure he was holding her head proper. Kid did have his eyes, how 'bout that? When he looked up again, Inara was gone.

He stared after the spot where she'd been, where now there was just air and the smell of her incense.

"I, uh..." His eyes blinked between Kaylee and the soft squirmy thing in his arms. "I'm not sure--"

"You're doin' fine, Cap'n." Kaylee gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Just fine."

-Oh, Kaylee. Ain't nothin' about this that's fine.-

---

He fell asleep inside her, those long, limber legs encircling his waist, her spearminty breath puffing cool and sweet 'gainst his cheek.

He woke alone, clutching the pillow steada her hair.

The room was cold, and Jayne shivered a little, tugged the blanket over his bare ass. How was it something so scrawny could keep him so toasty? Didn't make no sense, in fact.

He made a hollow effort to drift off again but just wound up staring at the ceiling. Muttering, he tugged on yesterday's clothes and mounted the ladder.

He found her in the dorm was designated as the twins'. She was by her lonesome with the babes, lacking Kaylee or the doc or Mal, even, for company. Course that there weren't much of a shock. Cap'n hardly looked on the kids since smuggling 'em on board. It irked Simon, Cap'n not aiming to be Daddy o'the Decade. Really, Mal weren't so different from Jayne in that they both understood you could love a person somethin' fierce, be willing to die for 'em, and yet not want 'em around you in the day to day. He wondered if Mal knew how alike they were in that way, whether knowin' it would rankle him some.

Weren't dislike what made him distance himself. Jayne liked everyone on Serenity well enough. He liked most of 'em. Well, he liked Kaylee and Nara. Raven was a sweetheart when she weren't makin' him hug Mal. And then, course, there was River.

Sometimes Jayne thought he'd rather die for River than sleep by her side ten years. In ten years, you could find a thousand little ways to fail someone. Not that he thought she'd keep him ten years. Hell, odds was he didn't have ten years to give her. Most like, he'd meet his end in a bar fight, or on some job gone wrong. Maybe Jayne Cobb weren't the brightest of men. Still, he knew his limits. He knew he wasn't gonna grow old someplace quiet. He'd die young--in earnest, was a wonder he made it this long--and he'd die bloody. Only thing he hoped for was that she wouldn't have to watch. When it happened, when his time came, he'd go out alone. And if you planned on dyin' alone...well, seemed you oughta live your life the same way.

All sounded shiny in theory, but Jayne weren't a liar. Well, he lied now and then. As a boy, he'd lied to the priest 'bout swearing and 'bout drinking, 'bout putting his hand under pretty Mabel Marrow's pretty cotton skirts. Sometimes he'd lied to his Ma, too, tell her he was goin' to school but then skip. He'd spend the whole day sinkin' his fishing rod down by the creek, or shooting pellet guns behind Tommy Pinkerson's barn. She beat him blacker 'n tar when she found out--didn't stop him from ditching though. Jayne even lied to Mal the first day he met 'im, promising to be good and keep in line. He'd meant to shoot Mal in the back, just that he never got around to it.

But he made it a point not to lie to his own self. And his own self had feelings for River Tam that might just fall into the category of fuzzy. He reckoned those feelings weren't the loud, messy sort, like how Mal felt for Nara. Neither was they soft and cuddly, like the kind 'twixt Simon and Kaylee. Hell, he never did have many words, least of all the right ones. But he reckoned that even someone with a whole book of words might have trouble finding one for him and River. Maybe he didn't have a word for how he felt. But it was real, and it was something. And that something weren't just sex.

"River?"

She looked up. Not surprised, definitely not surprised.

He cleared his throat, careful to keep the whining edge from his tone.

"Come to bed, girl."

She flashed a sweet little smile and trotted toward the cradle. She was already hovered over it when the first cry sounded.

"Hush, Little One."

She straightened with a squalling newborn clutched to her chest. He didn't know if it was the boy or the girl. He couldn't tell one from the other, wondered if River knew even.

They sat together on the bed, River rockin' the kid in her arms. Jayne leaned against the doorjamb, watching.

"He's lonely," she murmured. So she did know after all. "Missing his mama."

"His mama's right here, River."

She smiled again, sorta indulgent this time. Then she laid the kid out on the bed. Wordlessly, she unbuttoned her blouse. She wasn't wearin' a bra. Slack-jawed, Jayne watched her lift the fretting babe to her breast.

"Girl..."

"He isn't hungry yet." She smoothed the dark, downy hair. "Just wants to nurse. Wants the comfort."

Sure enough, the kid latched on. His eyes drifted shut almost immediately, his smooth cheek coming to rest against her small breast. One tight little fist clamped around a hunk of her hair while he suckled.

"Jesus." Jayne sank to the bed beside her. "Christ. Can I...?"

He reached out a tentative hand, using his finger to trace the arc where the boy's head met River's chest. The black of his hair was a startling contrast with her whiteness. Impulsively, Jayne bent his head, pressed a brief kiss to her collarbone.

When he met her eyes again, she looked torn.

"Want I should go?" he asked.

She curled into his side by way of response.

---

"Okay." He lowered the sheet over her legs. "Everything looks fine."

He turned his back so she could dress, feigning an interest in his medical bag. Sweet Simon.

"I appreciate you seeing me in my…Mal's and my shuttle. The infirmary feels so, well, clinical." Inara lifted a shoulder in apology. "Not that your bedside manner's to blame."

"Believe me, I understand. I think even the captain hates that room."

"Perhaps because he's spent so much time there."

They shared a smile.

"Inara…." Simon lowered his gaze to his hands, fumbling for the words. "I…there was one other thing…."

"I thought you said everything was fine?"

"No, no. I mean, yes, physically, everything's…well, your BP is a little higher than usual, but--"

She smiled.

"Perhaps doctors make me nervous." Teasing was healthy, wasn't it?

"Inara…I don't think there's much in this 'verse that makes you nervous." He hesitated, making a face. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Simon." She smiled. "You've enough on your mind right now. Please don't add me to your list of worries."

She recognized that look in his eyes—she saw a variation of it in Mal's. Of course, Mal's penetrating blue stare carried the added component of raw fury. Fury at the circumstances. Fury at his own helplessness. Fury at a God in whom he no longer claimed to believe.

"I know I'm only your medic by necessity…I mean, it's not like you've got a catalogue of OB-GYNs to choose from out here. And this definitely isn't my specialty. River used to tease me…said I opted to be a trauma surgeon so all my patients were unconscious. You know, because I don't always say…anything resembling the right thing." He smiled, sheepish. "It's just…I'd feel like I was being…remiss…if I didn't recommend that you speak to someone…."

"A counselor, you mean." It wasn't a question. And this conversation wasn't entirely unfamiliar. The story was the same, just with new names and faces.

"Some therapists treat patients over the Cortex….Or, if you wanted, I could try…."

She smiled again, a softly-sad lilt of the lips that fell short of her eyes.

"I just need some time, Simon." She reached out to squeeze his hand. "Thank you…for everything."

"Of course."

When he was gone she took a lingering shower, letting the heat of the bath pervade her bones. Mal found her at the dressing table some time later, combing out her wet hair in long, even strokes.

"Hi."

He bent to kiss her, a chaste lip brush that glanced over her temple. Something about his greeting undid her, and she bowed her head, eager to hide her eyes. It was silly, really. He often kissed her hello, his embraces ranging from quick pecks on the cheek, lips, brow, to greedy invasions in which his tongue plundered her mouth, his hands ravaging her body. Sometimes he'd come to bed late, after hours spent scouring star maps, inspecting the bridge or the engine room.

"I need you now," he'd say, and he'd throw her back on the bed with a ferocity designed to excite.

Sometimes she'd tease him.

"That's rather apparent, Mal," she'd whisper, filling her hand with the front of his trousers.

Other times she didn't say anything at all, just fisted her fingers in his hair, dragged his face down to the curve of her throat.

Sometimes she'd be laughing, anticipatory laughter: giggles of surprise and delight as he fought off her pajama pants, tugging her underwear down with them.

He'd torture her with lips and fingers.

"Mal. Oh, Mal."

"Not yet." He'd make her wait sometimes, refusing to enter until she was soaked, slippery beneath his hand.

They hadn't made love since it happened: since she lost their baby.

"So, uh, ran into Kaylee," he said now. "She mentioned you were seein' the doc this afternoon."

"Yes." She lifted the comb to her crown, dragged the teeth from root to tip.

"So…everything shiny?"

"Everything's fine, Mal."

"Good. Good." She watched his eyes focus in on a spot three feet over her head. "Are you still…is there bleeding?"

"Simon says I should stop soon." Root to tip, root to tip.

"Good. I'm…that's good."

"I need a little more time, Mal." She met his eyes in the mirror. She needed the degree of separation the glass provided. "Before we make love…I need some time."

"Huh? Ohh. Hey, now, I didn't mean—"

Her eyes widened.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have implied—"

"Inara." Mal stilled her wrist. Slowly, she lowered the comb to the dressing table. "You and me never did do polite too well. Mostly 'cuz polite's just not sayin' things oughta be said, and I reckon we left too many things unsaid over the years as it is. I don't aim to go back to that place."

She lowered her gaze.

"Still, I shouldn't have…you've been very understanding."

"Understanding," he repeated. "That's funny. Funny 'cuz I don't understand a damn thing."

"I don't know what you mean." That was a lie--she thought she did.

"I mean…ai ya, what I mean's I...I miss you."

"I'm right here."

"No, you ain't. You ain't here at all."

She was getting annoyed. Why did he insist on fighting with her now?

"Then where am I, Mal?"

"In earnest, darlin', I ain't rightly sure. But this--you paintin' on that smile with your lipstick--you won't even let me touch you."

"I told you..." Her voice shook; she fought to steady it. "I need some time before we--"

"I ain't referring to the sex." He sighed, his expression softening. "Inara. Let me help you."

She sighed, all her pretense draining with her anger.

"You can't help me, Mal."

She resumed combing her hair in long, slow strokes.

She half wanted him to fight her, force her. He didn't. She heard his boots cross the floor followed by the sure sound of the shuttle door sliding closed.

Carefully, she laid the wide bone-comb down by its matching brush. Even though she'd just bathed, her face felt hot, perspiration a silky sheen on the skin. Her pulse pumped at her neck and wrist, beat wild and erratic at the tops of her legs. Suddenly very tired, she rested her head atop her arms. She felt the warm streams of wet before the sobs started.

On the other side of the door, Mal stood motionless. He listened to her cry, hard, racking sobs that filled his ears and his brainpan, trickled like tiny razor blades over the gut. In that moment, all he wanted was to kick in the door and go to her. He'd sit down on the floor and force her into his lap. He'd make her stay there until she cried, sobbed out every single tear right in front of him. After, he'd use his mouth to kiss her cheeks clean.

And when she was ready, when she was stronger, he'd take her to their bed and make love to that impossibly beautiful body.

Least lovemaking was proactive. Weren't nothin' could make a man feel impotent like standing in a dark hallways, listening to a woman sob.

---

Guilt. It poured over her, flooding her wave upon wave. She could choke on it.

She'd hurt him. Not just his pride but his feelings. Would they forever shut themselves off, she and Mal, intent on keening their hurts in seclusion? She'd chastened him for that: the instinct to lick his wounds in private. She'd spent months trying to draw out his trust, make him trust -her-. He was so possessive of his pain. For years, he hoarded it, held it to his chest and refused to share an ounce. She never knew they had that in common.

True, she was a private person, maybe even a bit of a loner. Mal never understand that--how she could be lonely in a throng. He could be dense that way, insisting a butterfly must enjoy the attention her wings garnered.

The first time Inara Serra left Serenity, she attended the Emperors' Ball in Sihnon City the same month. Now she could scarcely recall who escorted her: some Alliance general or another. Wealthy. Distinguished. Handsome in the way wealthy, distinguished men so often are. She accepted his invitation purely out of spite: she knew doing so would enrage Mal. And, oh, how she wanted him to suffer. Of course, he would never know of the engagement; in fact, she'd have opted for death by firing squad before she told him. Somehow this fact slipped her mind when she made the contract.

The Emperors' Ball was held ostensibly in honor of the twin rulers of Sihnon and Londinium. In truth, it was a pretext for the wealthy and wealthier to gather together and flaunt their wealth--merciful Buddha, she sounded like Mal just then--as well as a public show of Anglo-Sino camaraderie. Additionally, the Emperors' Ball made the party on Persephone look like a five-year-old's birthday. Of course the Alliance had good reason for channeling funds into the Ball; traditionally, it earned back twice the credits spent in donations.

The Ball dated back many years, before the War, before anyone even spoke of Unification, and invitation was a tremendous social boon. In her youth, Inara's mother had danced there; Inara herself had attended the Ball three times before her twenty-fifth birthday.

Wandering the polished floors on the general's arm, Inara couldn't help but think the ball had lost some of its sheen. It was nothing tangible; the wines were still sweet and full-bodied, the food rich and delectable. She could still taste the heady aroma of the flowers: lilacs and lilies and night-blooming jasmine. But something very pertinent was lacking. She'd realize it later, upstairs in a satin-trimmed bed wide as a lake, crushed between artfully strewn rose petals and the equally artful body of her general. He came with a grunt, and with her single tear came the comprehension of what she was missing. She didn't need flowers, fine foods or bed and wine. What she was missing just then was a bad-tempered ex-Browncoat with an irritating sense of nobility.

She spent three days with the general, accompanying him to dinners and political functions, flattering him and charming his friends. In the entire seventy-two hour period, she had hardly a second to herself.

She'd never felt so devastatingly lonely.

A week later she'd accepted the position at the training house. But of course that was before Miranda, before the Alliance hijacked Serenity and took River away. It was before Shadow, before her father and that awful hospital. Before she and Mal had found Hope and then lost her.

She wanted his hands on her: work-hardened ones with their callous-tipped fingers. Wasn't running people off Mal's prerogative and not hers? She couldn't be in the shuttle. The realization hit her like a slap, summoning her to her feet. She needed to walk, breathe.

She wandered along the catwalks, her feet conforming to well-traveled paths. Serenity was freezing—Inara was freezing. She didn't mind; she liked the bite. She wandered on to the bridge, found it deserted. She had the very real and yet utterly inane desire to wave her dead mother.

-I need you, Mama.- I need you. Three small words—why couldn't she say them?

She sank down into the pilot's chair, her eyes as black as the dead space on the other side of the glass.

Ridiculous to want her mother now, and not just because the woman's grave was cold. No, Inara had lost her mother long before they laid her in the ground. Liliana Serra, prima ballerina and dazzling beauty. After Inara, she had two miscarriages in quick succession. Both children had been boys.

How much of the parent's past was the child destined to repeat? Mal echoed his father in many ways, some more unsettling than others. Before she lost the baby, she'd meant to wheedle Mal into visiting Emmy's world. Something about Mal's descriptions of his stepmother intrigued her, not so much the words but the emotions behind them. She had a strangely ardent desire to meet this woman. She thought of her own female role models: Mama, Nandi…Dominique. In her own way, each woman wanted the best for Inara. She wondered when she'd learned to ascertain her own desires. She thought it might have been Mal who taught her.

Her fingers glanced over the keys now, recalling the coordinates by rote. The face that filled the screen was older than she remembered, as though years and not months had passed since they last spoke.

"Inara?"

With the last of her resolve, she made her lips curve.

"Hello, Trevor."

---

With his heel, Simon nudged the cradle, hoping to soothe its fussy occupants.

" 'S very inconsiderate," he slurred around a yawn. "The least you could do is synchronize your sleep schedules. But no, Devon has to have his bottle at three while Epiphany prefers to dine at four." And of course the one's wailing had a tendency to wake the other.

"Do you know the true tragedy in all of this?" Starting to nod, the twins ignored him. "I can't even blame the captain's genes for this. You see, your mother was a huge brat when she was a kid. As a baby, she insisted on being held all the time. If you put her down for even a second, she'd scream." He smiled. "Father--your grandfather, I guess--he thought she was afraid of missing out on something. River was always in such a hurry..."

"My interrupting?"

Kaylee leaned in the doorjamb, her hair tousled from sleep, her pajamas riding low on her hips. She stretched a little, exposing a strip of skin around her middle.

"Hey." He offered her a tired smile. "You should be sleeping."

"Ain't sleepy." She padded across the room and climbed into his lap. Automatically, his arms went around her torso, fingers inching under the fabric of her night shirt. "So what was you three talkin' 'bout?"

"Actually, it seems Dull Uncle Simon put them to sleep. If I didn't know better, I'd say the captain turned them against me. But since Mal never actually sees them..."

"Simon." Kaylee squirmed. "We agreed we was gonna give him time."

"He's had time, Kaylee."

"I know, but...just gotta give him some more. Anyway, ain't it sorta shiny? You and me playin' at bein' their parents?"

"Except we aren't their parents, Kaylee. You...you understand that, don't you?"

She stiffened in his lap.

"What's that 'sposed to mean?"

"I just...when the time comes to give them up--turn them over to their real parents--I don't want you to be...sad."

"Ain't like we'll be givin' 'em up all together. We'll still be Uncle Simon and Aunt Kaylee. Honey, why you gettin' bibbledy 'bout this?"

"I just want the captain to do what's right. Mal has a tendency not to think things through. He enacted the grand rescue sequence without pausing to consider the practicalities of raising babies...raising them on a spaceship."

"Zoe's doin' it. She's raisin' Raven just fine."

"For now. But Raven's not even two yet You don't honestly believe she can grow up here on Serenity, Kaylee."

Once again, Simon felt her muscles clench.

"How come?" she demanded. "What's wrong with right here?"

"Children need schooling, Kaylee. A safe place to call home. I--we haven't had this fight yet, have we?"

"Ain't a fight." She sniffed. " 'S a discussion."

Simon sighed.

"I love this ship, too, Kaylee. It's what brought me to you. It's just...raising a child, or two children--it's a gigantic responsibility. The captain's so concerned with protecting them, keeping them safe. I guess I worry about the more mundane aspects. I worry they won't be...happy."

Kaylee studied him, thoughtful.

"You weren't happy, honey?"

"Shuh muh?"

"Back when you was a boy...you weren't happy?"

"N-no...I mean I wasn't unhappy. It sounds so childish, saying I was miserable. I had schoolmates. And River, of course. I just wasn't..." He shrugged.

"Dizzy with glee?" Kaylee supplied.

Simon smiled.

"I wasn't dizzy," he agreed.

"How come?"

"This may come as a shock, but I wasn't always so smooth when it came to pretty girls." He kissed her nose, and she giggled.

"I never woulda guessed."

"Uh-huh." He poked his finger under her arm, delighting in her squeal.

"So why was you nervous with the womenfolk?" she prodded.

"Oh, I suppose I was just shy. It's funny though..."

"What's funny, Baby?"

"I had this friend: a kid named Collin Ng. Quiet and smart. We took all our classes together, and after school he'd come over my house, and he and River and I would play games." He snorted. "She always won, no matter what we played. Anyway, one day Collin stayed home from school sick. At lunch that day, I approached a table where some of my other classmates were eating. I asked if I could join them."

"I know what happened." Kaylee looked horrified. "Them other kids told ya to get lost?"

He smiled.

"No. They said, 'Sure, Colin. Sit down.' "

She crinkled her nose, confused.

"You two look alike?"

"Not a bit. And until that day, I never thought of us--Collin and me--as the same. He was the quiet one, the shy one. For some reason I'd imagined myself loquacious." He chuckled now at the memory. "It took Collin's bout with flu to show me who and what I was: another Collin Ng."

Kaylee curled around his arm.

"What's Collin up to nowdays?"

"Oh, God. I haven't spoken to him in years."

"Bet he ain't a fugitive space-medic."

Simon laughed.

"I imagine he isn't."

She snuggled even closer.

"Simon?" Her voice was breathy. "There's one more thing you got that Collin don't."

"Oh? What's that?"

She grinned and pressed a searing kiss to his lips.

"Me."

---

He'd taken to sleeping in his chair. Bridge weren't the coziest as bedrooms went, but then neither was his shuttle past few days. He preferred the neck creaks, the aching back, to the other pain: the one came from lying beside her all night. Just across the bed but it coulda been light years. The wont to touch was damn near excruciating. He even made the error once, reaching across a mattress what never seemed so vast to stroke a single finger down the nape of her neck. She didn't shiver or shudder, rebuke him or pull away even. She simply laid still, pretended like she was sleep even though the both of 'em knew otherwise.

If this was his fate--having and then losing her--well, the liar in him wished never to have had her at all. And the truthsome man--the truthsome man wouldn't relinquish a heartbeat even if it meant spending the rest of his days with a whole in that particular organ.

On a groan, Mal stacked his boots up on the console, squinted at the trajectory. He had time for an hour or two's fitful rest before Kane's ship was due. Having spent his share of years as insomnia's loyal playmate, Mal knew better. He fixed his eyes on the Black, waiting.

---

She was there with the rest when Jayne and Kaylee readied the docking collar. He didn't know if he was ticked or tickled that Caroline hugged her first, crushing Inara to her body in a warm embrace and speaking softly into her ear. He decided he didn't care one way nor the other--yep, he was gonna go with that--and made the appropriate fuss when his sister swooped down on him next.

"Mal." She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

"Dammit, woman. Disentangle." But he held on an extra few seconds, grateful to see her alive, unharmed.

"Malcom." She met his eyes, and he saw his own mirrored back at him. "You stupid, stupid man." She punched him in the arm and turned to hug Zoe hello, still rolling her eyes.

"Ow!"

"Going after those babies alone...are you mad?"

"Glad to see you, too, Carly," he muttered, rubbing his bicep.

"By God's good graces," she murmured, kissing Kaylee and Simon.

"Seems it ain't so much God's graces as Mr. Kane's," Mal observed. He reached out to shake the man's hand. "Much obliged, Sir."

Kane smiled wanly, squeezed Mal's shoulder with his free hand.

"I wish you'd stop that 'Mr. Kane' business, boy. The trouble is you look entirely too much like your father. It confounds the mind a bit."

"Well, none the less, I am grateful." Mal cleared his throat. "Emmy? She...?"

Kane looked away.

"She's alive. She's sleeping, now. I'd like to have her transferred to your infirmary."

"How...?" Mal had to start again. "How bad?"

Simon stepped forward.

"Captain, why don't you let me take a look?" he offered.

Mal nodded, grateful.

"You do that, Doctor."

"Amos." A tall, well-muscled blond man stepped forward, rested a meaty hand on Kane's shoulder. For a moment the pair conversed in whispers.

"Malcom," Kane said at last. "This is Captain Cameron Vespucci. Cam, Captain Malcom Reynolds."

Vespucci nodded.

"Captain Reynolds."

"Good to meet you, Captain." Mal extended a hand. "Welcome to Serenity."

---

They sat around the table, all save Emmy who was sedated and Caroline, who offered to watch the little ones while the others conversed. Inara brewed coffee and set tea to steep, and when she handed Mal a mug, their fingers brushed. Impulsively, he stroked the pad of his thumb along the inside of her wrist. She didn't return the touch but neither did she pull away. He wondered if that weren't some manner of progress.

Mal waited till everyone was seated and sipping at something before starting to speak. Under the glowy lights of the galley, he thanked them all for being in attendance. He paused a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"While back, some of us here saw fit to fight a war. I can't speak for Zoe, but I myself saw things as pretty black and white then. Freedom versus tyranny, good versus bad. The Independents were right, and the Alliance was wrong. Now though...well, reckon it ain't simple as all that. Only thing truly black is the Black, and maybehaps that's why I hid here all these years. But I won't hide anymore. I've lived long enough in Serenity. I aim to break free. Got three little lives that tell me it's time." Mal's gaze shifted from one face to another, came to rest at last on Kane. "I got me a good crew. Best. In a perfect world, I wouldn't have to ask this of them. But most of us at this table have seen firsthand what happens when men try to make their worlds perfect. The perfect world is an illusion. But maybe I was wrong to give up on havin' a better one. Maybe we still got a chance at that. For the sake of my children, I gotta believe in that chance.

"This better world...ain't about fixing people. I don't hold to the belief that people need to be fixed. Maybe you just gotta give 'em somethin' worth living for. Maybehaps that somethin'...maybe that somethin's hope.

"Mr. Kane...Amos...if you believe I can play a role in this--takin' the Alliance down a notch--I do believe it's my duty to try." He took a breath. "There's a chance, a good one, that this won't end well. So if any of you all want out of this--"

"Sir." Zoe met his gaze. "Do you honestly think you need to ask?"

Mal glanced around the table, taking in the multiple sets of unwavering eyes.

"Not even for a second," he said quietly. "Now: how's about we talk plans."

---

Mal watched his crew work, unable to ignore completely the swell of pride. Zoe, Gideon and Kaylee were hunkered down over Kane's blueprints, their heads pressed close in contemplation. Simon seemed to have elected himself official note-taker. Boy was thorough, Mal admitted, peering over his shoulder. Wrote real pretty to boot. He turned his eyes on River, saw her fingers clasped Jayne's under the table. He waited for the wave of discomfort that didn't come. Beneath his lashes, he snuck a glance at Inara. She looked like a queen, and, in that moment, capable of anything.

"Sir?"

He glanced up, guilty to be caught staring.

"Zoe?"

"Let's run through this once more. Just to be sure we have all the details."

Mal nodded his approval.

"Cameron, you wanna...?"

"Right." Vespucci pointed to the starred location on the map. "As Amos explained, the purpose of this strike is twofold. The obvious intention is to deal the Alliance a severe blow by bombing DOD headquarters in Capital City. As Blue Sun's Armed Forces Division is housed in the same compound, they'll be similarly wounded in the assault. The less blatant aim is to rouse fellow Independents across the 'verse. We'll accomplish this through the blast itself and, more symbolically, through our second aim: stealing the Independent flag of surrender, currently on display in the Unification Museum in the same compound. The recapture of the flag will be a call to arms. Captain Reynolds will carry it to every rim world we visit, inspiring the people with his story, his heroics."

Across the table, Mal winced.

"Ain't heroics. And I certainly ain't--"

"--a hero?" Kane smiled. "But you are, Mal. More than you know."

Mal looked away, eyes on the blueprints.

"We're sure the museum will be closed that week, shi?"

"The Unification Museum is undergoing renovations. Excepting the occasional civilian visitor, the only people on the compound will be Alliance government, high military and BSAFD workers. Surely you understand, we can't guard against -any- civilian casualties, Mal..."

"Surely I do," Mal murmured.

"The best we can promise is that they'll be minimal. There is another concern," Kane began. "It's about Miss Serra..."

"Inara?" Kaylee piped. "What's she--?"

"Inara ain't part of this," Mal protested. He could feel her eyes rake his skin, chose not to meet their pointed gaze.

"Everything you touch is a part of this, Mal. Everything that touches you..." Kane folded his hands on the table top. His expression was one of apology: the executioner preparing to pull the trigger. "Forgive me, Miss Serra. Truly, you're a woman of unparalleled beauty and grace. Under ordinary circumstances, you'd be a boon to any man."

"She don't need to be a boon to nobody." Mal folded his arms stiffly. "She's her own person."

Inara and Zoe made lingering eye contact. Inara hid a smile in her tea. She knew Mal was a feminist in his own, chauvinistic way. But this...Her brain waged an internal war, half of her appreciating his efforts, the other half scorning them. In the end, curiosity trumped both flattery and pride.

"Let Mr. Kane speak, Mal." She raised her lashes, boldly meeting the elder man's gaze.

"Please understand that the opinions I express aren't my own. I myself find Miss Serra lovely. However, there are worlds in this 'verse where the day of enlightenment has yet to dawn. We are so often judged not by our presents but by our pasts. And the fact remains that she was, for many years, a Companion."

"And now she flies with me." Mal shrugged, blue eyes fierce. "Ain't seein' the relevance in this."

"I think I see your point, Mr. Kane." Inara's voice sounded cool and sweet--a glass of iced tea on a sun-shiny day. "You're suggesting that I'm a symbol of the Alliance and all it's sovereignty. To put it more bluntly, I'm a whore of the establishment." She tilted her chin in time to see Mal's temple pulse.

"Some would see you as that, yes. Others would simply question your loyalty. It's a well-known fact that Companions utilized their...assets on behalf of Alliance intelligence during the War, betrayed the Independents from the vantage points of their own beds. The people don't forgive easily, my dear."

"Utilized their assets?" Simon asked.

"He means sexpionage," Inara explained cooly. "Mr. Kane feels my presence at Mal's side could compromise the mission."

"There are others in this room what fought for the Alliance once upon a time," Mal said quietly. "Things change."

"Your presence would compromise Mal's authority, just as mine would, Inara." Gideon stared at a spot over her left shoulder. "Mal's a symbol to them, a man of the people, one who believes in them, fights for them. A man who sees fit to die for them. When the people learn their leader shares his bed with a common whore..."

"Gideon, you don't wanna--" Zoe began.

Mal bounced to his feet, one fist slamming into the tabletop with force enough to rattle plates.

"Ta ma da--"

"Mal! Mal, wait..."

"You got somethin' to say, darlin'?" He whirled on her. "Cuz I was attempting to defend your honor here."

Inara encircled his wrist.

"Excuse us a moment," she murmured, dragging him into the hallway.

"I like this dress, Mal," she hissed when they were alone.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I don't want your blood staining the silk," she ground out.

"Well, see, I'm plannin' on it bein' his blood."

"Not to disparage one of your carefully-wrought plans...but you do realize this boy's had training. As in Academy..."

"You implyin' I can't take him--and that...I'm bad at planning?"

"I'm not implying anything, Mal. I'm stating facts. He helped create the program that made River. And every time you defend my honor, I end up sporting your bloodstains."

"So, what? I'm just 'sposed to let him insult you?"

"Mal. Do you think his words sting me? They're just words. And they don't." -Only yours ever did.-

"Someone oughta teach that boy some respect."

"And I suppose that someone has to be you," she snapped back.

"I'm thinkin' it does!"

She shook her head.

"You're crazed."

"Uh, yeah, damn near!"

"If you see that you're acting like a psychopath," she began, her tone incredulous, "then why can't you stop acting that way?"

"I don't like them talking 'bout you."

"I'm realizing that, Mal."

"Kane don't got the right...putting you on trial that way..."

"No, he shouldn't have said--"

"You ain't his, Nara!"

"Of course, I'm not--"

" 'Cept lately...ai ya, lately, Nara, it's like you ain't mine either."

She arched a brow, compelling him to backstep.

"Okay, I know you ain't mine as in belonging to...but you're...we're...dammit, I can't even touch you! Every since we lost the..."

"You're touching me now, Mal."

He glanced down to the spot of contact: his big hand holding firm to her upper arm. It must hurt her, fingers digging into her flesh that way, squeezing the delicate bone. He released her at once, guilty. Her motions deliberate, Inara lifted his hand from his side, placing it this time over her breast. He felt his palm curve, cupping her through her blouse.

Their eyes met. She took a hesitant step forward. He pulled her the rest of the way into his arms.

Greedily, she opened her mouth, inviting his tongue to explore its depths. He hadn't shaved and the rough skin of his face scraped at hers.

"We should...go back now," she managed.

"We really gotta go back in there?"

"Where else," she began, pausing to accommodate his lips, "would we go?"

He met her gaze, his own soft blue and tentative.

"Could go to bed."

It was a question.

She took his face in her hands, kissing softly.

"Tonight we'll go to bed. We'll likely go more than once."

He groaned, suckling her lower lip between his teeth.

"Missed you," he murmured, the words tickling her neck.

She dipped her fingers in his hair, ground lightly against the front of his trousers.

"I missed you too, Mal."

"Hey, now." He kissed her again. "I ain't meanin' sex."

Her expression revealed that she did not, perhaps, find this claim perfectly believable.

He laughed.

"Not just sex, anyway. Weren't just my body was achin'."

She lowered her face to his chest, hesitant to speak for fear she'd cry and embarrass him.

"Course that part was achin' somethin' fierce," he said, and made her laugh again. "Sure we can't just, you know, turn in early?"

"Mmm, perhaps. Though wouldn't that underscore Kane's and Gideon's claim?"

He shook his head, though his lips twitched.

"That ain't particularly funny, Nara."

She smirked.

"I thought it was reasonably cute."

"You're a brat," he said, pulling her into a tight hug.

"And you're a crook."

They rocked together in the empty hallway.

---

TBC in Part 29. We're nearing the end, and the author is way too attached for her own good. Leave me feedback!


	29. Chapter 29

Bed and Wine: Part 29

By Kaynara

---

Of Pulpits and Principles. NC-15

---

AN: I'm sorry this is so late! Wrapping up 800+ pages is -slightly- more involved than I thought. Thanks for your patience--and your support! April

AN2: Thanks goes to Grimlock, who always tells me when something is go suh.

It's Joss's 'verse, I just borrow it.

---

LILAC, PRESENT DAY:

"Jesus." Jayne burst into the tent, shaking water droplets like a dog. "It's wetter than a whore's--ow!"

Beside him, Zoe withdrew her elbow from his ribs and unzipped her rain slicker.

"Well, it's wet out there." Jayne shrugged at Inara by way of apology and took a seat between River and Gideon at the makeshift table.

"Good sized crowd," Zoe remarked mildly. She sat beside Inara, carefully avoiding Gideon's gaze.

"They came out in the rain." Through the Cortex feed, Kane offered Mal a satisfied smile. "You've got them, boy."

"I hope I do at that, Mr. Kane."

"Mal, you'll forgive me, I have to dash. I wish I could be on Lilac for your big day. But we'll see each other soon enough. Good luck out there, and good luck in the Capital. You and Zoe are prepped for the mission?"

"We are, sir."

"And Gideon? You understand your role in this?"

"I do, Mr. Kane."

Kane's eyes crinkled, his gaze settling on Mal once again.

"I know you won't let me down, son."

The screen went dark, and Mal pushed back his chair. He walked to and fro, his fingers looped through his suspender straps.

"Sir, the floor's dirt. Probably best you don't pace."

With his eyes, Mal gave her his best withering 'Please, Zoe.' -Please, Zoe. I'm the captain. The captain don't pace.-

"You talk to the Doctor?" he asked.

"Trevor's ship sent a wave. Be touchin' down after sunset."

"Good...The others?"

"--stayin' with Serenity, sir. Simon's tending to your stepmother, and Carly's with the kids."

He was quiet a moment.

"And Kaylee?" he asked after a pause.

"Reckon she's helping your sister, sir."

"So I'm the only one in this dysfunctional family she ain't talkin' to, huh?" Mal looked away. " 'Magine you all got jobs. We're liftin' off this rock at oh-six hundred tomorrow. Gotta haul some serious ass to make it to the Core."

He squeezed his hand into a fist, hoping the others wouldn't notice the shaking that way.

"Captain's right." Zoe rose, adjusting her rain coat. "Gideon, Jayne--you're on crowd control. River, why don't you head back to Serenity, see if Kaylee can use a hand."

The others adjusted their rain gear, except for River who seemed to like the wet.

"Inara, why don't you help the captain prep," Zoe added mildly.

"You're very tense," she said when they were alone. She worked her fingers over his shoulders.

"Hmm," he murmured, noncommittal.

Inara smiled, standing on tiptoe to brush his lips.

"You know, we could do something about that."

"I--ohhh."

They made hushed, frantic love, shedding only the necessary garments in their rush to feel flesh. His hands roamed her body, wide palms spreading to cup her breasts. Through the silk of her blouse, he teased her nipples to points.

"I got me a powerful need for you, darlin'."

"Then take me," she entreated, straining against his erection.

"Well, I would, 'cept..." His breath puffed heavy and hot against her cheek. She wove her fingers in his hair and kissed him, tasting stale coffee and the savory flavor of desire. "Kinda havin' a bed shortage here."

"The great Captain Reynolds." She sucked at the skin of his neck. "Beat by a lack of bed?"

He pulled away long enough to raise a brow.

She rolled her eyes and laughed, the laugh dying in her throat when he ground against her.

"Mal."

"Can't exactly do this 'gainst the wall." He eyed the canvas distastefully.

She murmured nonsense into his ear--praise and pleas and promises--while he opened his trousers. His hands reached around her to cup her bottom, kneading the firm flesh through the fabric of her skirt. He cast wild eyes around the tent, glanced thoughtfully at the table and then back at Inara. She gave a little mewl of frustration and propelled him toward the table.

Together, they raised her skirt up over her hips, pinned it there to allow him access. He thrust a hand down the front of her panties and wiggled the satin over her ankles. Gentle now, he eased over her on the table, fingers dipping between her thighs to stroke and glide.

"Mal. Please."

He slid into her slowly, watching her eyes.

"Perfect. It's perfect," she assured.

"It is that."

Embedded in her, he let go some of the tension. His facial muscles slackened, his eyelids fluttering closed as he groaned deeply into her neck. She kissed his eyelids, felt the tickle of his lashes under her lips. She whimpered against his mouth, the pleasure agonizing, the emotion so intense that tears pearled in the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away, and when she came, her lashes were still wet.

---

"Still storming." He squinted into the rain. "Guess I best be gettin' out there."

He took a hesitant step into the downpour.

"Mal!"

"Huh?"

"Coat."

Inara held up the length of brown leather.

"Right. Coat."

He slipped his hands through the arm holes, let her turn him around for inspection. She tugged on the lapels and brushed some imaginary lint from his pants.

"Good?"

"Very handsome," she assured.

"Shiny. Inara?"

"Yes, Mal?"

"Be bad for me to pass out, huh?"

She looked concerned.

"Are you nervous about speaking in public?"

"Me? No." He fiddled with the collar of his shirt, finding it hard to breathe of a sudden. "Probably won't faint."

"Of course you won't faint." She bit her lip.

He ran a hand over his belly.

"Lunch ain't sitting so well," he admitted.

"Shhh." She took his face in her hands and kissed him gently. "You'll be fine, Mal. This is who you are."

"I'm just a man, Nara."

"You're a leader."

He looked away.

"Wish you were goin' up there with me."

"Kane feels my presence would divert your purpose in this—send the wrong message."

He smirked.

"You do tend to stand out. Still, ain't this your particular skill set? Decoratin' the arm of some fancy politician?"

She smiled, knowing the remark was meant to mock himself more than her.

"You're not exactly fancy," she assured, and he laughed.

"Prolly for the best, though…you not standin' beside me." He shrugged. "Safer."

He trailed a hand over her hair.

"You should go," she murmured.

He let his hand fall away and half-smiled at her before exiting the tent. On his way out, he passed Zoe, and the two exchanged nods.

Together, the women watched him ascend the steps to the stage.

"He's going to be wonderful," Inara said.

"Yep," Zoe agreed.

"As long as he doesn't faint."

"Yep."

---

He didn't know what he'd expected: angry mobs maybehaps. Soldiers. Rebels. Not this, though. Not families: men and women and children. Old people and young...

"Ya'll know 'bout Reavers, right? Maybe they hit your friend's village. Or your mama's. Maybe they landed in this very township. I been places after a Reaver attack. Was hardly anything left."

A teenage girl shivered beneath the shelter of a pale pink parasol. An older gentleman, maybehaps her granddaddy, wrapped a protective arm round her shoulders. Across the aisle, under the cover of an oak tree, a mother held her baby boy on her hip. She was youngish--Kaylee's age or lesser--and the boy looked to be three or four. Mal saw it in the way she held him, his small, sturdy body hugged tight to her breast. Reavers weren't just stories to these folks. These people had seen the horror firsthand.

"Reavers--they'll rape, maim and murder every soul unlucky enough to cross their paths. They're animals, worse than 'cuz once they were men.

Little over a year ago, I learned the truth. Reavers weren't just men gone wrong. They weren't men what lost their way in the big bad Black. Reckon by now most of y'all seen the recording for yourselves. You've seen into the truth of it, that Reavers are nothin' but a gorramn science project. Typical Alliance muck-up. They're so damn determined to make people better. In the end, all they make is a mess. And who's gotta clean up that mess? Innocents."

An old woman with one eye missing and ribbons in her hair. A couple of lovers cuddling in the grass, the pair of 'em impervious to the rain. A teenage boy with spindly arms and a determined jaw. A pregnant woman who held her big belly with one hand.

"You wanna know how the mighty Alliance proposes to deal with the problem of the Reavers? Wanna hear their grand solution? Government took teenagers, kids no older than yours. They lie to these kids and take 'em away from their families to be tortured. Cut their brains to pieces, program 'em like they're gorramn robots. Yup, that's civilization for you, folks. Turn your children into killing machines, and send them off to hunt and fight and kill and die! Old men sendin' babes to fight their battles. And if'n the warrior-kids perform real shiny, they'll make more of 'em. Breed 'em like rutting animals. Like a prize horse. They'll find a man with the right mix o' genes, and they'll put his seed in innocent girls. Daughters. Sisters. Anyone's fair sacrifice when we're building a better world."

He let his gaze linger on a family with two daughters. A girl six or seven, who didn't yet have her grown-up teeth. The other one was tall and thin, River's age maybe. There was an innocence to her, though: one he'd never seen in River's Tam big brown eyes. An innocence that told of shopping for dresses and sneaking out to meet boys--experiences River was denied. Under his gaze, the elder girl shivered, tugged her sister almost imperceptively closer.

"Well, folks, I don't hold to that. I don't hold to the notion that we're all of us Alliance plunder. I've had enough of the secrets and enough of the lies. For too many years now, I let the 'Liance govern my life. Time was, they just ran amok of the Core, but they're pushing out, more so every year. Burned the land and boiled the sea on all of thirty worlds. For awhile, I was naive enough to think the sky mine. But I know better now. I know we can't any of us hide forever. And as of today, I'm done hidin'. I want the same things as you folks. I wanna settle down on a plot of land, raise my family without worryin' about some government takin' what ain't theirs. I don't wanna worry 'bout Reavers hitting my kids' schoolhouse."

Heads shook in agreement. Even under his coat, he felt the chill in the air. He watched a woman nod heartily, her sodden ponytail whirling around to smack her in the face as she gestured.

"Don't wanna worry 'bout my niece bein' deprived her meds'cuz they ain't available but on the Core."

A wave of accord rode the crowd.

"Yeah," shouted a man.

"Damn right," intoned another.

"I've been running for a long time now. Wherever the 'Liance went, I tried to stay one step ahead. Well, I ain't runnin' no more. I aim to put down anchor. Somethin' the Alliance needs to learn, and they best be learnin' it here and now. This 'verse ain't the property of the rich and powerful. 'Verse belongs to whoever's brave enough to fight for what they believe. So I stand here today, askin' you to be brave."

His ears were pounding something fierce, or maybehaps it was the applause.

Over the roar, he murmured 'thank you', gave a few awkward waves before allowing Vespucci to usher him off the stage.

Inara was waiting at the entrance to the tent.

"Mal!" She grabbed him and kissed him. "Mal, that was amazing."

He nodded, blinking.

"Mal? Are you alright?"

"Inara, why--why you all blurry?"

"Pardon?"

"I think--think I'm gonna faint."

She caught him as he slumped forward.

---

Kaylee crossed her arms over her chest, watching as each of the men hefted an infant carrier. The captain stood to the side, eyeing the scene coolly.

"Ain't he gonna look at 'em even?" Kaylee whispered.

Beside her, Zoe shrugged. She held onto Raven with one arm, the hand of the other rubbing small circles over the girl's pale pink tee shirt.

"Sometimes it's hard to see why the captain does what he does, Kaylee. Without seein' where he's been."

"Hey! Hold up, fellas."

"Captain Reynolds, sir." The black man, who seemed to be in charge, hesitated for a moment. "Mr. Trevor gave orders that we leave Lilac immediately upon retrieving the package."

"He's right on that note. Just…give me two minutes, shi?"

The auburn-haired man looked to his superior, who furrowed his brow in silent contemplation before nodding.

"Take a whole five, Captain."

"Thank you. Both of you."

With a beneficent nod, the darker man lowered his parcel to the dirt, motioned for his associate to do the same. Mal dropped down to his haunches between the carriers, looking on the two little lives what moved him to fight a war.

Kaylee started to step forward, but Zoe shook her head. After a time, he began to talk.

"Figure none of this makes much sense to you. Hell, I'm a good bit older, and it don't make sense to me either sometimes. In earnest, you've had a rough first month. Been shuffled from one end o' the galaxy to the next and not had much in the way of consistency.

"Now, I ain't gonna lie to you and say it's smooth sailin' here on out. In fact, I'm not gonna make any promises of the kind. This war—no tellin' how it'll end, or when. Might be a few years 'fore we see each other again. Or, fair chance we won't. So if this is the last time, you should know that you're loved somethin' fierce. Whole bunch of folk wantin' you in their lives. Won't make a big tale of it 'cuz you guys look mighty tired, and to be truthsome, we don't got long. But I will say this. Long as I'm breathin, little ones, I will do my damnedest to protect you, even if...even if I ain't the one to do it in the day to day."

Kaylee watched him trail a finger along Epiphany's cheek, brush a kiss over Devon's temple. He stood, blinking something furious.

"Alright," he called. "Alright, take 'em."

---

SERENITY, TWO WEEKS AGO:

In the passenger dorm designated as the twins', Caroline lowered her face to one baby's bare belly, attacked it with an onslaught of kisses

"What will you do with them?" she asked, laying the boy in the cradle with his sister.

"In earnest, Carly, I ain't done much of anything." Mal looked past her, abashed. "Been lettin' Kaylee and the doc carry that load."

"I meant—"

"I know what you meant."

"And?"

"And I ain't rightly sure." He raked a hand through his hair.

"You've a war to fight. Surely you don't intend to bring babies onto a battlefield."

"No, course not. I thought…." He cleared his throat. "Thought Inara might tend to 'em. I got a friend, old war pal with a township out on Silverhold. Could call in a favor, maybe—have a house set up for her and the babes. Somethin' nice-like, with a garden maybehaps. I'd take my ease there, when I was able—"

"Malcom."

"Hmm?" He scowled at her expression. "You thinkin' that's a bad notion? Cuz, honestly, Carly, I ain't seein' a better."

She blew out a breath.

"Truly, Mal. A belt to your backside would work wonders."

He smirked.

"Ain't I a little old for that?"

"Aren't you a little old to be so rutting stupid?"

"Hey, now." He folded his arms. "I'm just looking to protect what's mine as best I'm able."

"And what about her, Mal? Hmm? I know what it is to see your husband off to war, watch him walk away and wonder every day if he'll come back to you, what parts will come back. I don't wish that on the girl, lying alone in a big bed every night, missing you, worrying for you. Worrying whether your children will know their daddy, or only captures and stories—"

"Enough." But his tone was mild, more exhausted than angry. "Could give her the choice…."

"Malcom." Her eyes held a plea. "Don't make her choose. Don't ask her to choose between protecting your children and standing by your side. It isn't fair to either of you."

He snorted a laugh.

"Tell me, Carly: just when has this ever been about fair?"

"Let me take them."

"Shuh muh?"

"Raven, too. I'll take all three someplace where the Alliance can't hurt them."

"Truly, Carly. I ain't sure such a spot exists."

"We'll find one. Someplace they won't think to look. And when you win this, when it's all over, you'll come back for them and be a wonderful daddy."

"I don't know if I can do that, Carly." There it was. The truth he couldn't ever say aloud, not to Kaylee or River or even Inara. "What if…what if it ain't in me?"

"Malcom." She cradled his chin lovingly. "You really are dense."

He left her making doe eyes over the infants.

"I've got things, Carly, but you go 'head and gush to your heart's content."

Truth was, he didn't wanna be in the room with them. The longer he looked on 'em, the more something inside him cracked.

Still, it was preferable to his second errand that morning. He rapped at the infirmary window with something akin to dread. Point of fact, dread sounded about accurate. No other way to describe the brand of guilt wrapped around nausea encircling remorse that lingered in his gut.

"Captain."

"Doctor."

With one last glance at his patient, Simon led Mal to the sofa what functioned as a waiting room of sorts.

"Do you want to sit?"

"Not especially," Mal admitted. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. "Why don't you tell me what's what?" he asked quietly.

"Alright. The physical damage appears minimal. She sustained two broken ribs."

"They...beat her?"

"With a baton, I'd guess. She has some bruising on her belly and on the backs of her thighs."

He nodded. It was a few seconds before he could speak again.

"What else?"

"Dehydration, malnutrition, exhaustion. Mentally, she's disoriented, maybe a little confused. Modern interrogation methods attack the mind as much as the body. Without conducting extensive testing, I'd wager she's somewhat depressed. About what you'd expect from a torture victim, really."

Mal raised a brow.

"You okay, Doctor?"

Simon angled his head. Mal traced the boy's line of sight to his sleeping patient.

"These are the people that want my sister's children."

Mal watched Emmy stir in her sleep. Beneath the gray wool blanket, he glimpsed a crown of dark hair She coulda been anyone under there. Any smallish woman with jet black hair.

"Some valuable genes you got."

"Mmm, yes," Simon agreed. "Valuable enough to justify torture and murder and...carving a girl's head like a gorramn turkey. Ta ma duh!"

"Simon--"

"I didn't care about anything else. For so long, all I cared about was her."

"Y-your sister?"

"But now, seeing them, holding them in my arms...I have to protect them, Mal. They're a part of her, and I have to keep them safe."

Mal lifted a hand to the boy's shoulder, gave a firm squeeze.

"Go grab a shower, Doctor. You're startin' to smell like you belong here."

Simon snorted a laugh.

"Well, we wouldn't want that...It's, uh, it's alright for you to sit with her, Captain." He started down the hall, turned back to meet Mal's gaze. "It might help."

Alone, Mal lowered himself into the chair by the bed, brought his elbows up to rest on his knees. He was well and wearied with seein' his crew on this table. But then she weren't exactly crew.

"Malcom?"

She stirred and the blanket shifted. Carefully, he tucked it around her shoulders.

"Hey, now. It's cold out here; gotta keep you warm."

Her eyes traveled the white infirmary walls, the doctor's tidily-stored supplies, before falling again to her lap.

"You must..." The words were eaten up in a yawn, and she had to start again. "You must not have many guests."

He chuckled.

"I'll speak to Simon 'bout havin' you moved. Could be, you'll find the passenger dorms more to your liking. Although, reckon it ain't what you're used to."

She smiled then, and for a moment he saw the beauty what captivated his father.

"I'm teasing you, Malcom. Your ship seems very...fit."

He cracked a smile.

"Well, thanks. And, you know, Mal's fine."

With a slender hand, she brushed back the hair from his forehead.

"Darling, it's a wonder I don't call you Quentin."

"I'm not him, Emmy."

"You're just like him."

"I'm--" His voice broke. He had to take a breath before proceeding. "Hell, Emmy. I ain't never been so lost."

"Mal." Her fingers traced his features. He knew it wasn't him she was touching. Still, her touch felt nice, how a mother might touch you, or someone trained in soothing. "Mal, you're not lost. You're just like Quentin. You see the path through the woods where others see only darkness. The only difference between you and your father is these people. If he'd had friends like yours, he'd still be alive."

Mal was silent for several moments.

"Got me a good crew," he said at last. He took her delicate hand in his, careful to avoid the place where the IV poked through skin. "Damn good crew."

She smiled again, her lashes fluttering shut.

"Malcom?"

"Esmerelda?"

"Destroy them."

---

TEN DAYS AGO:

"No."

"No?" Mal lifted a brow. "You sure of that fact?"

She nodded, brown eyes big and solemn.

"So you don't gotta go to bed? That was just crazy talk?"

"Cap kiss."

She puckered tiny lips, and he sighed.

"Oh, Lil' Chick. You are gonna break hearts, aren't ya?" He planted a smacking kiss on her cheek, pleased when she giggled, hid her face in his neck. "C'mon, darlin'. Whadda ya say we find your mama?"

He came around the corner and stopped short, catching sight of the scene outside her bunk. Casually, he turned himself and Raven around, feigning interest in the peeling paint while the argument petered out. It didn't take but a minute before Gideon was moving past them in the direction of the galley and Zoe setting her face in a smile, one hand curving up to adjust her hair.

"Zoe."

She reached for her daughter, who despite her best efforts was beginning to nod.

"Everything okay?" he asked, settling the drowsy chick in her mama's arms.

"Everything's fine."

No eye contact, no 'sir.' She was lying of course, but he was only half capable of caring just then.

"Zoe, can we have words up on the bridge? When you're settled here..."

"I'll meet you on the bridge," she called over her shoulder, already headed for her bunk.

Twenty minutes later, she met him in the cockpit. Etiquette had him standing, offering her his chair even though past experience said she wouldn't accept. Tonight was no exception; she leaned against the console, folding her arms over her chest.

"Problem, sir?"

"You, uh, you okay?"

"Already asked me that, sir."

"You were lying back there."

"If you know that, sir, then why are you asking?"

He just smirked.

She raised a brow.

He shuffled his feet a little.

"Ain't my business who you let in your bed, Zoe."

"Not for some time, sir."

For a moment, neither spoke.

Finally, Mal sat beside her on the console, folded his arms to mirror her stance.

"Carly says she'll take them: Little Chick and the twins. Take 'em away someplace safe."

Zoe drew breath as though to speak, closed her mouth and had to start again. When she looked at him her eyes were wet, though both pretended otherwise.

"That's probably for the best. Any idea as to where?"

He offered her a lopsided smile.

"We ain't exactly drownin' in friends these days."

"We'll find a place."

"Mmm. Zoe?"

"Sir?"

"I hate this." He stared out into the Black. "With every fiber of my being, I loathe and revile it."

"Don't reckon there are many who like war, sir."

"You think I'm selfish, Zoe?"

"Sometimes."

He snorted.

"I meant, is starting this war up--"

"I know what you meant. And you aren't, Mal. Aren't selfish, and you aren't starting it."

"Yeah, well. I'm sure as hell not stopping it."

"Long as the Alliance stands, they'll never stop coming for us. You didn't have a choice, sir."

"I had a choice," he growled. Then, more quietly: "There's always a choice...Could give 'em what they want."

"Really think you could live with that, sir?"

He blew out a breath.

"Really think we're gonna live anyway, Zoe?"

Something flashed in her eyes.

"What?"

"I won't do this, sir."

"Do what?"

"Be the strap you use to flog yourself. Could be you're right--could be we don't come back from this. And if that's the way of it--no offense, sir, but I'd rather spend the time with my baby girl. Prefer that to watching you hang yourself."

Mal stared her down, eyes flashing with rage and pain and just plain annoyance. He was on the verge of losing it, had to drag in several, slow breaths to get a'hold.

"Go watch your chick roost," he said finally, all the anger vanished.

She nodded, turned at the last minute and laid a hand on his biceps.

"Sir. People are gonna die in this. Don't reckon any of us think that's okay. But the people on this ship--Kaylee and the doc and Nara, heck even Jayne--those people need a leader, Captain. And maybe it ain't fair for that man to be you. Don't suppose it's fair at all. But that's the way of it. From now to the end, you lead 'em. No matter how dark the path."

He met her steady gaze.

"I don't wanna go back to that place, Zoe."

-I don't wanna go back to that man.-

"You can't go back there, sir. To much is changed."

"Yeah." He stared out into the Black. "Now we got more to lose."

---

ONE WEEK AGO:

Kaylee gaped at him, her hazel eyes brimming with disapproval. Inara just looked at her lap.

He wondered what stung more—Kaylee still expecting him to make things right or Nara not expecting anything of the sort. Maybe the worst was how River smiled, soft and sad and so perfectly certain. As though none of it meant a damn. As though he hadn't any choice.

"You're gonna send the babies away?" Kaylee's words pierced the silence of the galley.

From the corner of Mal's eye, he saw Zoe, face bereft of all feeling.

"Way it's gotta be," he said quietly.

"How's that, Cap'n? Hmm? Gettin' too hard to ignore 'em on the boat?"

He could feel Inara's eyes glance over his face. When he spoke, his tone was mild but firm.

"That's enough, Kaylee. No use arguin' what's been decided."

"Mmm, I don't think it is, actually: enough. I ain't a little girl no more, Cap'n. Been tendin' to what's yours for goin' on a month now; figure that gives me some rights where they's concerned."

"Kaylee--" Simon tried.

"Bi zui." He was losing his temper but quick. "Kaylee, we're 'bout to fight a war here. What part of that ain't connectin' for you?"

"They're family now! You can't just send away family--"

"Everyone, please." Inara started to rise. "Let's all just take a few calming breaths and--"

"No. You wanna talk on this, Kaylee? You wanna know what war is? Cuz I could tell ya, darlin'. Could tell ya in bright and shiny descriptives why I refuse to raise those kids in the midst of one."

"That so." She shook her head, biting her lip so it wouldn't tremble. "And where's the war right now, Cap'n? Huh? Where's the war betwixt here and those babies' bedroom?"

Before he could compose an answer, she was flinging back her chair and sprinting from the galley.

Simon shot him a look that wasn't so much damning as conflicted before following in her wake.

"Kaylee?" he called softly, disappearing around the bend.

For several moments, no one spoke.

"Has to be done," Mal said finally. When he spoke, his words were weary, his voice that of a much older man. "Ain't like I want to..."

"Sir?"

Zoe's address did it: brought him back to himself.

"Any luck so far finding safe harbor?"

"Not as such, no. Seems our cup o' friends don't exactly runneth over these days, so if anyone else has a suggestion, I'm more 'n willing to--"

"Mal." Inara lifted a hand. "I may have an appropriate port."

"I'm listening."

"There's a saying...that the best place to conceal something is in plain sight. The Alliance would expect you to hide the twins on a border moon, some backalley rim world." She lifted a single shoulder. "They'd never think of looking on the Core."

Mal chewed this over, nodded slowly.

"Ain't a bad notion. Still, I ain't exactly the picture of popularity on most Core worlds."

"No," Zoe agreed. "But Nara's pretty well-favored."

"It's true I have fewer friends on the Core these days, fewer still I'd entrust with Raven and...and Devon and Epiphany."

It felt strange uttering their names aloud. They weren't any part of her, yet in a very real way she already cared for them, worried for them and for what losing them could do to Mal. It wouldn't destroy him--very little could. But he'd retreat into himself again, shutting out anything that could compel him to feel. She didn't think he would come back from that.

Enduring his hurt and anger now seemed a small sacrifice, one she was willing to make.

"A few days ago...I waved Trevor, Mal." She met his eyes when she said it, hoping he'd recognize her desire to discuss this openly. "I think he'd be willing to shelter Caroline and the children."

"Trevor from Shadow?"

"He's from Sihnon. But yes, he's the same."

"Inara...you didn't know 'bout this plan a few days ago. Hell, I didn't even know, and it's my plan."

"I--I know, Mal. I waved Trevor for other reasons."

"What reasons would those be?"

She glanced around the table, more humiliated by his line of questioning than her own answers should she choose to give them. She tried to keep her tone neutral.

"It's personal, Mal."

"Ohh. Personal. Welll."

"Oh, am I not allowed male friends, Mal? Or is it Trevor in particular that offends you?"

"Sir, maybe we should--"

"Well, can you see why he might?"

She laughed shortly.

"Oh, forgive me, Mal. Shall I avoid every man with whom I've been intimate?"

From the corners of her eyes, she saw the remaining crew slink away from the table. She vaguely wondered whether their squabble shouldn't be moved to the shuttle. She wasn't of a mind to think rationally. Mal didn't look particularly rational himself.

"Tall order," he snorted.

Her eyes went wide, and he realized immediately his error.

"Inara. Ai ya, I didn't mean--"

He didn't mean it. He never meant it. If she wanted him, she'd have to accept that fact--the fact that he often failed to think before he spoke.

She stormed from the galley against the sounds of his swearing.

---

SIX DAYS AGO:

He was trembling in his sleep.

She crawled across the bed to get to him. They'd gone to sleep on opposite ends that night. Typically, she slept in his arms. Squinting in the darkened room, she hovered over him, saw his face twitch in the throes of the nightmare.

"Mal." She caught hold of his shoulder and shook. "Mal, wake up."

He did on a gasp, sat forward straining for air.

"Shh, it's alright," she soothed. "It's fine, it was just a dream."

He blinked, glanced around the room as though to establish his place in it.

"Inara?"

"I'm right here."

With the speed of a gunfighter, his arms came around her, and she tumbled against his torso. He brushed his lips over her hair.

"I love you."

"I--I love you too, Mal. You're not angry anymore?"

"Well, not after we talked and such."

She crinkled her nose, bemused.

"We talked?"

"We didn't?" He made a face. "Oh, Hell. I must be goin' crazy."

She smiled, stroked his hair.

"Was that part of your dream?"

He nodded.

"Do you want to tell me the other part?"

He shrugged, curled her tighter against his chest. His skin was warm from sleep, clammy from the dream.

"Just a nightmare."

Now it was her turn to nod. She wouldn't push him. By now she knew better than to push.

"So, what did I say that was so persuasive? Perhaps I should write it down."

"Well, pretty much that it was all your fault." He smirked. "That's the jist of it."

"I said that? Hmm."

"What?"

"Well, you were definitely dreaming."

He smirked, then sobered.

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Alright."

"Why -did- you wave him, Nara? Truthsome."

She blinked, not expecting him to ask.

"Trevor? I--I don't know. It's not that I miss him. I certainly don't love him."

"Yeah, I know. But--and I ain't judgin' here, just askin'--you waved him when you were hurtin' somethin' fierce. You went to him 'stead o' comin' to me. I just wanna know why, Nara."

She was quiet a moment. When she spoke, her voice held firm, the words unwavering.

"Trevor came to the private clinic...the one I stayed in after losing Marina. Aside from Nique and the doctors, of course, he was the only one who came. The only one who knew it happened. And now Dominique's dead--not that I'd look to her for anything. But Trevor--he's the only one left, Mal. He saw me fall all those years ago, and he saw me stand up again. I suppose I needed to hear I would survive this from someone who watched me do it once before." She'd needed to bask in that certainty, wrap it around herself like a blanket.

He nodded, one hand stroking her hair.

"And that's the all of it?"

She paused, pressing her face into the curve of his neck. She breathed in his hair soap and his aftershave and the scent that was specifically -Mal.-

"It wasn't fair asking you to mourn for her, Mal. Not when she was gone. Not when you had two living children to protect, babies right here on Serenity."

"That's...that isn't--"

"They're tiny, and they're helpless, and they need you."

"Inara." He cleared his throat. "Lil' Kaylee weren't exactly wrong. I've done my level best to avoid those babes."

She worked her fingertips over the planes of his face.

"Because you're scared? It's okay to admit that, Mal."

"I guess that's part of it. But, Inara. Ai ya, listen to me, now. They ain't a replacement for what was lost. I still think about her, see her in my head sometimes."

She was quiet a long moment, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet too.

"How does she look?"

"Oh, like you, mostly. Dark hair, soft like yours. It hangs all down her back--messy-like if one of us don't comb it. I got this image in my head--can see it clear as the stars. Guess she's about four. Couldn't be more 'n four...

"You're carryin' her up to the bridge, and her face is all flushed from just havin' a bath. She's wearin' one o' them white nightgown thingies, the sort with the ruffles at the neck, and her feet are bare. When you set her down, she scampers over and climbs in my lap.

" 'Wanna fly Daddy's spaceship?' I say. Then you come over and perch on the arm of the chair, and I'm holdin' onto Hope with one arm, and the other goes around your waist, and the both of us just watch her. She's so damn cute, Nara."

With the tip of his finger, he wiped the tears from her nose.

"Thank you, Mal."

"What for?"

"For not asking me to go."

He felt his ears redden, hoped she wouldn't notice.

"Give me a little credit, Nara."

She burrowed into him, lips curving against his shirt.

"You've come a long way, Mal."

"Well...I'm trying."

---

LILAC, PRESENT DAY:

"Gonna go with your Aunt Carly, dong ma? Aunt Carly's gonna take good care of you, Little Chick. Emmy, too. She's your step-nana and also, point of interest, pals with your cousins' birth—you know, maybehaps we stick to 'Nana Emmy.' " With his big hand, he smoothed the small back. "Hush, now. Don't cry no more. Be brave for your momma and Uncle Mal."

He turned to Zoe, but she was backing away.

"Captain?" The redheaded man jerked his head toward the ship. "We're cleared for up-thrust, sir."

"Right."

"Malcom."

Caroline extended her arms for the baby, who was shrieking in earnest now.

"Take care of—"

"I will."

She leaned in to kiss his cheek, and Raven made a grab for his shirt.

"No." He forced open the tiny fingers and stepped back. "Go."

Zoe was nowhere to be seen by the time the ship lifted off. He watched them break atmo before going back inside.

On the way up the ramp, he met Kaylee, watching him with big puppy-dog eyes.

"Cap'n."

"Let's not make a big thing of it, Kaylee."

"Okay if I give you a hug, Cap'n? Just a little one?"

He sighed and uncrossed his arms.

"You gotta? Absolutely no way around it?"

She bit her lip, hesitating.

"I don't hafta, Cap'n."

He sighed again and hauled her into his arms. He held her tight to his chest, arms locked around her waist.

"Just can't help yourself," he murmured, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

---

CAPITAL CITY, OSIRIS, ALLIANCE COMPOUND, PRESENT DAY:

He hadn't seen bright like this since he was a boy back on Shadow. Was like someone coated the whole world in white and garnished it with lemons. The colors. He couldn't get over the colors. In the distance, the flat green of the land met up with the blue arch of the sky. Not the dull gray-blue of gunmetal but a bright, morning blue for which he didn't have a word. And the buildings—he hadn't never seen buildings so, well, clean.

"I won't lead from the rear."

Mal had watched the look pass between Kane and Vespucci when he said it.

"This ain't up for discussion. I don't send boys to fight my battles. If I fight a war, I fight it from the front."

"Mal, no one's questioning your honor here." Kane had reached across the kitchen table to pat his hand. "Aiming to fight alongside your troops--that's very noble. But you have to consider the overall wisdom of that plan. If we were to lose you, Malcom, we wouldn't just be losing an able body...or a savvy brain. You're a symbol to these people. A man to follow. And they will follow you, Mal."

"Well, that may be so, Mr. Kane. But when this goes down, I want a role in it. Would you feel confident with Serenity retrieving the surrender flag?"

Kane had hesitated, hand hovering over his tea cup.

"Malcom, I--"

"Reckon if I'm gonna carry the thing, I oughta be the one to thieve it."

"But...breaking and entering? Isn't that a little...well, petty?"

"Mr. Kane, thieving was the only life left us when we couldn't be soldiers anymore." Zoe smiled then, and Mal had smiled with her. "Seems only right that we get to be soldiers again by thieving."

"And today we thieve back what's ours," Mal murmured, a wry smile twisting his lips.

He and Zoe crossed the sun-drenched courtyard in companionable silence. None o' the rest o' the crew questioned them bein' the ones to do this job. It was theirs, as in belonging to. Even Jayne seemed to feel that his presence weren't needed and remained on the boat without a fuss.

The Unification Museum was tall and tooth-white, with big green-glass doors to show you your reflection, tell you that you didn't quite belong. Good thing they were goin' in by wiring tunnel. They posed as workers, in boxy white uniforms and matching white caps.

Zoe preceded Mal through the passage.

"I know you're not starin' at my ass, sir."

"What? Zoe, how can you even--?"

"Teasing, sir. Just tryin' to lighten the mood."

"Oh. That's funny, Zoe."

"I'm a comedienne, sir."

"I always thought that about you."

Inside, the air was cool, likely climate-controlled to a lower setting for the sleep cycle. Still, it was a welcome contrast to the tight, hot air in the tunnels, and they took a moment to breathe deep, straighten their uniforms some.

It didn't take them long to locate the flag--flying green and weepy in the aritficial breeze, over an animatronic re-envisioning of the Battle of Serenity Valley, 2511--and take out the pair of guards patrolling the galley.

The scene showed the bloodless Independent surrender. Mal snorted. Anyone who made it outta that Valley alive—and granted there was precious few—knew there weren't no bloodless surrender. The Independent troops held out two more weeks after the call to lay down arms—two long weeks in which the dead came to outnumber the living. While starvation and infection ravaged the Valley, fine men in suits met to decide fates. None of it mattered worth a damn. By the time help came, those fates had been long-since decided.

"Sir?"

He glanced at Zoe, awaiting his orders like always, and had the sudden urge to destroy the lot of it. With cool clarity, he could envision himself tearing the robotic troops—Browncoat and Purple Belly alike—to tatters, rendering them as ruined as they lived in his memory. But that wasn't his purpose today.

He held the banner in his hands, running his fingers over the coarse hunter green fabric.

"Huh."

"Sir?"

"Thought I'd feel somethin'."

"Shuh muh?"

"Holdin' it in my hands. Thought I'd feel..."

"Vindicated, sir?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Think the vindicating bit comes later, sir." Zoe tucked the banner down her coveralls. "Let's go."

They made their way toward the entrance, intent on walking right out the front door. He heard them first, voices where there should have been silence:

"Bang, bang! Die Indy scum!"

"Ahhhh. You got me!"

Mal turned slowly, ice water sluicing his spine.

Children.

Kids no higher than his hip, bouncing about as though someone spiced their morning milk with a good dose of speed. A harried-looking schoolteacher, hair escaping her straight braid, tried futilely to keep them in line.

"Boys and girls! Girls and boys, please!"

Two of the self-appointed Browncoats barrelled past them. A little girl with dark-brown pigtails tripped over his boot, fell to her hands at his feet.

Wordless, Mal dropped to his haunches to help her up. He set her straight, replacing the bright-pink knapsack on her arm.

"Xie xie, sir," she said, the picture of politeness. She offered a shy grin before bolting off to rejoin her peers.

"You're welcome," Mal whispered.

He moved at a leisurely pace across the crowded lobby, pushed open the green glass door and held it for Zoe to precede him. On the other side, he took three more steps before starting to run.

Back on Serenity, Mal dropped into the co-pilot's chair opposite River.

He radioed the waiting Champion, Zoe poised at his side.

"Shiva, Robin Hood, do you copy?"

"Robin Hood, Shiva, say status," Gideon requested.

"We got the package, and we're making ourselves real scarce," Mal reported. "No tangos in sight."

"Roger that, Robin. Requesting 'Weapons Free' when you are clear."

"Negative on strike, Shiva."

"Say again, Robin?" Gideon reuqested.

"Shiva, Robin, Abort, Abort, Abort. Do you read?" Mal asked.

"Robin, Shiva, Abort, Abort, Abort, roger. Bugging out. Request update, Robin. Why the abort?"

"Target ain't empty. U museum musta opened early or some such--there's a gorram school trip!"

"Sir, he's changing heading." Zoe pointed at the screen. "He's vectoring back on the target."

"Shiva, what the hell are you doing?" Mal demanded.

"This needs to be done, now clear the channel, Mal."

"What you're aimin' to do ain't war, son. It's murder! Mass-murder!"

"Target acquired. Into attack."

"Dammit, Gideon! You're killing scores o' kids who ain't even seen their tenth birthdays! Its a ruttin' school field trip or sumsuch!"

"Master Arm; on. Doors open. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the greater good. Safties are off. GBU is armed.Weapons hot."

"We don't sacrifice children!"

"You said it yourself, Mal. Sometimes you have to stand up and be brave. If you believe in something, you have to be brave. Good-bye, Mal."

"Gideon, no!" Zoe cried, all propriety abandoned in a last ditch effort to stop him. Later, Mal would forget the details of the radio exchange but not Zoe's cry.

"I have tone. Weapon's away!"

---

NEO-INDEPENDENT BASE, OSIRIS, PRESENT DAY:

He crossed the room in three strides, lifted the boy up by the shirtfront and slammed his fist into Gideon's face. Conversation ceased as a hall's full of celebratory Independents turned to gape.

"Son of a bitch."

Gideon didn't fight back or even struggle to break free. With the back of his hand, he wiped the blood from his mouth, leaving a bright red smear over his cheek.

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Sorry?" Mal hauled back as though to hit him again. From the corner of his eye, he saw Inara watching, her dark eyes huge and fearful. Slowly, he let his hand fall away, gave the boy a shove to send him stumbling to the floor. "I was the commanding officer, and I gave the abort. You got no call second guessing my orders, you smug little—"

"I made a decision."

" 'Scuze me?"

"You weren't thinking like a commanding officer, Captain. You let your emotions cloud your judgment, and I made a decision to override the abort."

"Uh huh." Mal nodded. "Well, son. I'm guessing that's the last decision you make on my watch. Once Kane learns what you did—"

"What's going on here?"

Kaylee jumped back to allow Kane to pass. Even at five foot seven, Amos Kane made an imposing figure.

"Gentlemen, why are you fighting? This is a day of celebration. The attack was a success. We took out the Capital building, Blue Sun's militia headquarters and--"

"—children." Mal cleared his throat. "A whole school's worth. Murdered 'em like they were nothing. Like they were martyrs."

"I don't—" Kane blinked, looking to Mal for explanation. "I don't understand."

"Museum weren't closed today. Renovations got through early in a couple wings, to celebrate, local school sent a passel of kids hardly outta short pants."

"Oh, Merciful God."

"Not today, surely. You see, we didn't just destroy buildings today, didn't just hit high military and government men." Mal turned hot eyes on Gideon. "Were close to thirty kids on that compound when he blew it to bits."

"Malcom." Kane draped an arm over his shoulders. "I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry. My intel indicated the Unification Museum would be closed for another—" He trailed off, shaking his head. "It's truly a tragedy, Mal. But you mustn't blame yourself. You had no way of knowing—"

"I knew. Saw the truth of it when I was inside. Coulda called it off, too. Point of fact, I did." Mal felt his hands tighten to fists at his side. "Boy disregarded my abort order."

"He…oh."

"I want him out. Off the campaign as of five minutes ago."

"Malcom." Kane lifted his head, the gentleness of his speaking voice belying the importance of the words. "I believe Gideon acted rightly."

"Shuh muh?"

"Disobeying a superior's order was unprofessional, and the boy deserves a reprimand. But as to the nature of his actions—Mal, he did what had to be done."

Mal shook his head slowly.

"Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch, you knew."

Kaylee drew in a breath, felt Simon's arm tighten protectively around her shoulders. Beside her, Inara stiffened.

"Captain Reynolds, I suggest you watch your tone." Vespucci stepped

between Mal and Kane, weight on the balls of his feet, hands loose at his sides. "You've no call speaking to Mr. Kane in that—"

"Cameron." Kane held up a hand. "Thank you, but I'll handle this. Yes, Mal, I knew. I learned about the museum's early reopening late last night. I was unaware of the school trip, but had I known, I'm afraid my decision would have been the same. This attack has been in the planning stages for months. It was critical that the strike go off as planned. I'll mourn for those children—innocent sacrifices to a greater cause—but I won't lose sleep over their deaths. They died in the name of something higher."

"You're insane."

"I'm not insane, Mal."

"Then you're a cold-blooded murderer. And I won't be a party to your lies."

"He shouldn't be permitted to leave." Gideon caught Zoe's gaze, looked quickly away. "He's a threat. They're all threats."

From the corner of his eye, Mal saw Jayne inch a hand toward his holster. He didn't have to see Zoe to know she was doing the same.

"He can't be made to stay." Kane rested a hand on Gideon's forearm. "Captain Reynolds is a hero, you see. And we don't hang our heroes…do we, Malcom?"

For a long moment, Mal was silent. Then he shook his head, a murderous fury lighting his blue eyes.

"No," he said, his tone deathly quiet. "Bumping your hero off his pedestal tends to hurt morale."

"Smart boy," Kane said softly.

"So he's free to go?" Gideon asked.

"He is, Gideon. Captain Reynolds will walk off this base on his own two legs. And I hope, someday, he'll walk back on again."

"That won't never be happening."

Kane shook his head, his thick eyebrows coming to a white peak over a delicate patrician nose.

"Your father would be so disappointed, Malcom."

"My father weren't a murderer, Amos." He turned to Zoe. "We're leaving, let's go.

---


	30. Finale, Part 1

Bed and Wine: The Finale, Part 1

By Kaynara

---

AN1: I'm sorry this is so disgustingly late! I promise I haven't been withholding story--it's just very, very long. Part 2 and the epilogue will follow in a much more timely fashion. 3 April

AN2: Many, many thanks go to Grimlock for the violence and tech talk. Any time Serenity's inner workings are discussed or someone's innards are spilled, we have him to thank :).

AN3: The part of Micah will be played by Carlos Bernard ;).

---

Kaylee curled against the door frame. She watched the captain sip his coffee, both hands wrapped tight around the cup as though to warm himself with its heat. She had a great urge to go find him a blanket, something warm and snugly, and put him to bed like one of the babies.

"Kaylee?"

She turned at Simon's voice, felt his hand come to rest in the small of her back. Grateful, she leaned back against his palm.

"You didn't tell him."

It wasn't a question, but neither was it a condemnation. Kaylee sighed.

"Meant too, just...he looks so terrible tired, Simon. I couldn't bring myself to hurt him no more."

"He needs to see this, Kaylee. If you want, I can...?"

She shook her head.

"No. I'll do it."

Kaylee stepped forward, clearing her throat.

"Cap'n? There's a news 'port off the Cortex." She chewed her lower lip, eyes soft and worried. "Think you're gonna wanna see it."

---

He made them play the recording through twice, though Zoe wanted to shut it off after the first.

"…reporting live from Capital City where just days ago a gruesome attack leveled three government buildings, including the Unification Museum. The explosion resulted in an estimated six hundred casualties, twenty of whom were schoolchildren on a class trip. I'm here with Madison Crane, administrative assistant to General Ralph Perkins, who was killed in the attack. Ms. Crane survived the blast by—"

"Skip ahead," Mal ordered.

Kaylee jumped the feed ahead till Mal motioned for her to stop.

"…God, it was horrible," the woman whimpered. She used the sleeve of her tweed jacket to blot at cheeks wet with tears. "Bodies everywhere, and the children…you could hear some of them crying…."

Though she'd seen the feed twice now, Kaylee winced at the woman's words. She felt Simon's fingers, cool and steady on her elbow.

After a few more seconds of the lady's sobbing, the capture refocused on the reporter, her auburn helmet of hair motionless in the breeze. Kaylee tried to catch the captain's eye, infuse some warmth in his cold blue stare; he kept his gaze on the Cortex, unblinking.

"While authorities have yet to make an arrest, vid feeds taken shortly before the blast finger reputed-Independent leader, Malcom Reynolds as a suspect. A former sergeant in the Independent army, Reynolds was seen exiting the museum just moments before the bombing."

Zoe murmured an oath under her breath, the words crude enough to have even Jayne's eyes widening in surprise. Inara just closed her eyes and swayed. Kaylee thought she looked real pale. She reached over and squeezed her friend's hand to steady her. Inara rewarded the girl with a grateful smile.

"That's enough," Mal said quietly, and Kaylee closed the feed. "What's the distribution on this recording?"

"Just the Core worlds," Kaylee told him. "Don't 'spect they care much on the Rim."

"So it's just tens of billions what think me a murderer. Shiny."

Kaylee gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"You're a good man, Cap'n."

"Yeah." Mal rose heavily, throat thick with emotion. "I'm just great."

---

They lay on the bed together, her hands in his hair, his head pillowed in her lap. Curling wisps of smoke drifted sweet and lazy toward the bed, hovered in the air over their heads. Lavender for calming and balance, sage for its restorative properties. She'd turned off all the lights save a single lantern. Suspended from the ceiling, it cast a muted glow over the shuttle.

With the tips of her fingers, she massaged the sides of his head.

"Inara?"

He'd been quiet so long she thought him asleep.

"Yes, Mal?"

"I did some awful things in the War."

"Really, Mal. You don't have to--"

"Killed a lot of men. Plenty who didn't deserve it--I won't pretend otherwise. But this—I can't—"

"I know, Mal." She drew her fingers through his hair. "I know you can't."

---

NEO-INDEPENDENT BASE, SIHNON

At a base forty miles outside Sihnon City, Amos Kane sifted through the war zone that was once his desk. Somewhere under all this wreckage there was a desk.

"Should be a law against an illegal insurrection having this much paperwork." Kane punctuated the sentence with a string of innovative curse words as his now-lukewarm coffee overturned on a stack of folders.

"Sir?"

"Cameron." He lifted his head to favor Vespucci with a rueful smile while mopping at the mess with his handkerchief. "Do you have those deployment figures, son?"

"No, sir.''

Kane cocked one, bushy white eyebrow in amusement.

"Was there an onslaught of locust? I only ask because you've never been late with an assignment in all the years I've know you." He winked to show he was teasing.

Upon receiving no response, Kane studied his lieutenant more closely. The taller man scowled down at the old politician, his mouth set in a firm, unyielding line.

"Is there a problem, son?" Kane asked carefully.

Vespucci hurled a disk at Kane's chest.

"I'd say there is. What is the meaning of this?''

Kane lifted the disk from his desk, took a moment to examine the label.

"Operation Bedlam," he read. He wasn't particularly surprised; he'd placed the file in Vespucci's mailbox himself . "It's one of one of our contingencies, Cameron."

"I trusted you. And I thought you trusted me!"

"I do trust you," Kane assured, in a voice like warmed honey. "You, Cameron, are my sword."

"Then why haven't I seen this file before?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't approve. You're our finest soldier. Probably one of the best in the known 'verse. But you let your emotions cloud your judgment."

"Don't speak to me like a daft child, Amos. I joined the movement because I believed war was the only way to protect the Rim worlds from Alliance abuses. But what you're planning for that ball isn't war. It's butchery! It's extreme, and it's reckless, and you can't control the outcome. Things are getting out of hand, Amos! Like at the museum…like your new pet!" He practically spat the last word.

"Civilian casualties are an unfortunate but necessary consequence of war, Cameron." Kane's tone was gentle but firm. "You know this."

"Reynolds ordered the Abort! Gideon disobeyed! He knew about the children and proceeded with the strike anyway."

"Try to understand, Cameron. We all have our roles to play. Gideon did his part to ensure neutralization of a key arms factory. His actions saved lives."

"No." Vespucci shook his head. "There is no place in this war for animals like Gideon, or the men who protect them.''

"I heard shouting." Gideon appeared in the doorway. On a tray, he carried two fresh coffees in Styrofoam casing.

"Just a slight difference of opinion, Gideon." Kane gave a wan smile. "Lieutenant Vespucci was just leaving."

"Really." It wasn't a question. "Because it sounded like he just threatened your life, sir. And mine."

"No, no," Kane protested. He paused to press the clean part of his kerchief to the damp flesh of his forehead. "Nothing so melodramatic as that. Am I right, Cameron?"

He looked old, Gideon realized. An old man, long past his prime, forced to submit to the intimidations of one younger and stronger. Gideon felt a rush of sympathy for his leader, the man he'd come to think of as his mentor. Fury crept over his fingers, made them curl. Carefully, he lowered the tray with the coffees to the desk.

"I'm not leaving here, Amos." Vespucci's voice was low, even, and deadly. "If I have to, I'll kill you."

Gideon met the other soldier's gaze, and in a tone more conversational than combative, said, "I can't allow that, Captain."

Kane could scarcely see what happened next. Both men were young, and both were quick. In near symmetry, they snatched sidearms from their holsters. A single shot rang out in the small office. In the aftermath, Cameron Vespucci lay dead on the carpet, a crimson stain expanding from a spot on his clean, white tee shirt just left of center.

With no small amount of regret, Kane knelt to close the young man's unseeing eyes. His death was unfortunate, but like Malcom, Cameron lacked the stomach for what was to come. Gideon, on the other hand...

"You had no choice." Kane rested a hand on Gideon's bicep, applied a light squeeze. "He was going to kill you. And he was going to kill me. I owe you my life, son."

Gideon just shook his, eyeing the mess on the floor dispassionately.

"You don't owe me anything, sir. Now, with regards to this Operation Bedlam…."

---

She slipped out from his arms—not an easy feat when he was in the cuddling mood and complicated by the fact that, should he wake, he'd have one aim in mind and, should he start doing that thing with his mouth, it would soon become her aim as well. He must have been tired because he only rolled onto his belly, mouth slightly ajar, and made a sound like a sigh. She smiled at the vulnerability of Captain Reynolds in the sleeping act, smiled because he let her witness him in such a state.

Barefoot, she wandered up to the bridge. It was mercifully dark, save the glowing lights from the console. Curled in the pilot's chair, feet tucked beneath her, she began to cry.

She cried quietly, the tears sluicing her cheeks, drizzling over her chin and fingers as she lifted her hands to her face. Accustomed as she'd become to sharing a room with Mal—sharing a bed and her life—she sometimes missed the luxury of having her own space on the ship. It simply wasn't fair to cry in front of him, not when he couldn't possibly understand or comfort her. And he surely wouldn't understand these tears, shed not from sadness but guilty, stomach-clenching relief.

She'd come so close to losing him. If Mal were to wage war, he could never lead from the rear. It just wasn't his way. He'd insist upon standing with his troops, standing on the front lines. And one day, men in military regalia would have found her. They'd have waved Serenity or located Inara on one of thirty worlds.

"We're sorry to be the bearers of such sad news, Ms. Serra. We regret to inform you that Captain Reynolds has been killed in action."

Dead. The thought of him dying somewhere far away—somewhere she couldn't reach him—was infinitely worse than the thought of losing him outright. She worried when he went out on jobs, of course, but at least here she could see him one last time, kiss his lips and hold his hand in hers. But to lose him in war…Inara vaguely recalled something the shepherd once said—about a society being judged by the treatment of its dead. War was often as brutal to its dead as to its living. And though she wasn't so naïve as to think any of them in the clear--it was very likely they'd spend the next several years running--she knew she'd escaped a potentially terrible fate because of the tragedy in Capital City. If there was one title she never wanted to attain it was that of Malcom Reynolds's widow.

Widow. The word and all its inherent absurdities and presumptions had her giggling through her tears. She pressed a hand to her lips to stifle the sound. Which would Mal find more perturbing, she mused, that she was contemplating their marriage or anticipating her own widowhood? She started to cry again because, alone on the bridge in the middle of the night, it seemed the only logical course.

The sound of footsteps startled her, and she turned in her chair.

Zoe.

She stood quickly, swabbing her face with her hands.

"I'm sorry, Nara," Zoe began.

"Really, it's my fault. I didn't think anyone else would be—"

"I didn't mean to—"

"Please." Inara smiled. "This is silly. Why don't you join me?"

Zoe lifted a brow.

"Sure you don't mind?"

"I'm sure. In fact, I'd be grateful for the company."

Zoe nodded.

"Uh-huh. Doesn't take a genius to tell you ain't up here looking for company, Nara."

Inara smiled, rueful.

"Sometimes the shuttle can seem a little…crowded. Not that Mal isn't—"

"Inara." Zoe smiled. "I've known the captain a long time. You don't need to explain."

Grateful, Inara nodded.

"You're worried for him," Zoe assessed, examining the younger woman with wise, narrowed eyes.

Inara cast her gaze over her lap.

"I'm afraid it's more selfish than that. I'm afraid I'm worried for me. Worried about losing him and...of what losing him will do to me."

"You weren't keen on him fighting this war," Zoe observed.

It wasn't a question. Inara smiled, glad there could be truth between them.

"Ain't selfish to wanna keep the captain breathing, Nara. Ain't keen on watching him die myself. Came close a time or two, and I'd just as soon not see him there again."

"This is silly." Inara sniffled, and dabbed at her nose with the tissue Zoe offered. "I feel...ai ya, it's idiotic, but I feel as though I should be brave for him."

"Yeah." Zoe smirked. "Man does inspire that."

"It's obnoxious!"

"Sometimes," Zoe agreed, lips twitching. "You know, Nara. You're not the only who came up here lookin' to feel sorry for herself."

Inara raised a brow.

"Zoe Washburne...throwing herself a pity party?"

Zoe shrugged.

"It happens," she said mildly.

When it no longer mattered, when the boy was long gone from her bed and her life, she finally figured out why she'd wanted him there in the first place. Wasn't about Wash. She couldn't replace Wash, wasn't so naïve as to try. Anyway, it wasn't Wash she saw in Gideon's pale blue eyes eyes. Wasn't him at all.

She told Inara as much.

"Guess I'm feeling confessional," she said at the Companion's look of surprise.

Inara just smiled.

"If anyone's entitled to an error in judgment, it's you. This would be, what, your first?" Zoe's lips twitched. "And after all you survived last year…." Inara continued, her tone softening. "Zoe, do you know what I miss most about my life as Companion?"

Zoe raised a brow; Inara laughed.

"Not that. The sex…well, it wasn't so important. Not really."

"You ever find yourself making comparisons? You know, between your clients and…?"

"And Mal." Inara shook her head. "There's really no comparison. Some of the men were more…technically precise, I suppose. But when I consider the experience as a whole…making love to Mal is like nothing I've ever known…and if he knew we were having this conversation--"

"—prob'ly space us both," Zoe finished. "Or himself."

"After his ears turned that alarming shade of pink."

They shared another smile.

"The sex wasn't so terribly important. Mal doesn't see that—and he never will. Even now, a Companion is little more than a whore in his eyes."

Zoe shook her head here.

"You're wrong, Nara. He respects you. Go so far as to say—Inara, the man treasures you."

"I don't question that, Zoe." Her voice turned soft but firm. "But Mal and I—we're from different worlds. The way he holds fast to his past and his pain…there's little room there for a Companion's brand of comforting. To Mal, a Companion plies her sole trade in the bedroom. And he'll always see my job—former job—as beneath him."

"And he'll always see you yourself as above him."

Inara blinked, lips at last settling in a smile.

"I'm trained in hiding my emotions. Why can't I conceal anything from you?"

Zoe smiled.

"Don't know that, Nara."

"I think, perhaps, it's because you and I aren't so very different. I hope you'll take this as a compliment; I intend it as one. But you could have made a fine Companion, Zoe. No, I'm serious. You've not only the beauty and the carriage necessary for a Companion's work, but also the control. And, perhaps most importantly, you've the urge to comfort. That's what I miss, you see. Offering comfort and solace. Losing your own pain in easing another's. It's what drew you to Gideon. You saw that he was hurting and wanted to help him...Am I close?"

"Maybe," Zoe murmured. "Maybe that was part of it."

"You see Mal in him. The Mal who left Serenity."

"And also…the one who arrived in that Valley. He was something, Nara." She snorted. "Believed so hard. Made us believe too. Without him, I wouldn't have made it. Know that for a fact."

"An experience like that must forge an incredible bond."

"Imagine it does," Zoe agreed, but her eyes were guarded now.

Inara hesitated, choosing her words carefully.

"It sounds as though you took turns guiding each other through Hell. I wouldn't begrudge either of you for finding a moment's solace amidst all that suffering."

Zoe looked stricken. At Inara's gentle smile, her lips curved into one of her own.

"Thought we'd both be carryin' that one to the grave."

Inara chucked.

"I'm very intuitive."

"Have heard that mentioned. Wasn't something we did often. Only happened twice, in fact. Both times we needed it, and both times was a mistake. That make sense?"

"You own a part of him I'll never touch." Inara lifted a shoulder. "It's alright."

"More that...more he doesn't want it touching -you,- Nara. And you're owning more bits of him every day. Good, though," she assured as a frown crinkled Inara's perfect forehead. "I want you to have him, honey."

"I want happiness for you, too, Zoe."

"Mal can't make me happy. He's too much a part of me. The sex--wasn't about love, sweetie. Wasn't even about passion. Which isn't to say the man don't know where things go..."

Inara snorted, clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Zoe Washburne!"

One look. Their eyes met just once, and they dissolved into laughter. They held their ribs, shoulders shaking with it. Each time they dared to exchange glances, one or the other would lose it again. In the end, both lay breathless on the floor of the cockpit, hands cupping their quivering tummies.

"I can't...breathe," Inara managed.

"Oh, God, my stomach hurts," Zoe groaned over another chuckle.

"Nara? You up here?" Mal strode onto the bridge, barefoot and wearing naught but his undershorts.

He took two steps and froze.

"Huh."

Sprawled across the floor of the cockpit were his lover and his first mate, both sets of cheeks stained with tears. The ladies seemed to be making a valiant, albeit futile, effort to stifle their giggles in his presence.

"Oh, hey, there," he tried. "I just--I--I don't wanna know."

Turning on his heel, he started back to his bunk without another word.

Inara and Zoe waited for the sound of his footsteps to recede. Then they started to howl.

---

"Just wanna go on record sayin' this plan's crazed, and we're all like to die."

"Don't disagree on the first point, Jayne. As for the second…" Mal shrugged. "Ain't an issue bein' that I'm the only one goin'."

The others exchanged glances.

"Sir, can I make a suggestion?" Zoe asked.

"Alright." He sounded suspicious.

"Can we skip forward to the part where you agree to take us along? I'm not against arguin' the point as a rule, just that we're short on time."

"Now wait a ruttin' minute!"

"He'll need an escort," Simon mused. "I'm guessing Zoe…?"

"I should be the one." Inara leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. "Without intending offense, I know the protocol better."

"Oh, hold on!" Mal shoved back his chair. "Inara, no way in the 'verse am I lettin' ya—"

"You sure about that, Nara? Could get dicey."

"Uh, no. She ain't sure 'cuz she ain't go—"

"Actually, Zoe, it's safer this way. Should something go wrong, you and Jayne would be free to come in after us."

"Ain't a bad notion." Zoe nodded slowly. "Leaves Kaylee to see to Serenity and the doc to patch up any hurts. Plus River…well, imagine you could do about anything, honey. This could work."

"What about wardrobe?" Simon ventured. "I'm told this affair is rather formal."

"That's an understatement," Inara informed. "It's the most extravagant event anywhere on the Core…anywhere in the 'verse, I suppose. We'll need some things. A suit for Mal. I'll need a gown, of course."

"I can help with the clothes," River offered. "I have good taste."

For a moment everyone at the table feigned interest in his or her lap.

"What? I do!"

Inara graced the girl with a smile.

"I'd love your help, sweetie."

"That there's a real shiny plan," Mal said mildly. "Shiny as a shiny thing. There's just the one detail where none of y'all are goin'. This ain't a fashion show, kids. Hell, if you're gonna spend all my coin on flashy party clothes, best make sure they're the somber sort; could well end up buried in 'em. Now, I've thought through the risks and if I wanna go in and get myself shot…well, I can! But the rest of you are sittin' tight till I get back, dong ma?"

"Got anything to add, sir?"

"I—well, no. No, that 'bout covers it, Zoe."

"Good. Might as well put it to a vote then. All in favor of the revised plan?"

"Whoa ho! We don't vote on my ship. 'Cuz my ship ain't a ruttin' democracy."

Zoe lifted a brow.

"All in favor of making this ship a democracy?"

Five arms shot up. Jayne glanced around the table, rolled his eyes and raised his hand as well.

"Six to one—that settles it." Zoe smirked. "You know, sir. Think I'm liking this civilized thing."

Mal shook his head.

"Bunch o' insubordinates," he muttered. But he was smirking into his coffee mug.

"Guess that's it then." Zoe smiled. "We're crashin' the Emperors' Ball."

---

He sat at the table, feet planted, elbows bent.

Inara rested her hands on the back of his chair. She could feel his body shift, responding instinctually to her presence. She leaned forward, letting her hair trickle down over his shoulders.

"You know invitation to the Ball is extremely selective. Diplomats, Parliamentary leaders and heads of state. Upper level military personnel and ranking members of the Guild. Private citizens rarely make the guest list. "

"Mmm."

"And any attempt at forgery would be immediately spotted as such."

"Uh-huh."

He was reading and doing his level best to ignore her. His lips moved softly, eyes scanning the page.

"The Palace employs a top-notch security system. Even if you do manage to gain entry, you won't be able to carry a weapon onto the premises. You'll be unarmed and at a disadvantage."

"Always seems to be the way of it," he agreed, not lifting his eyes from the page.

"Which is why you're going to let me accompany you."

He turned slowly, smiled a soft, lazy grin.

"Nice try."

"This isn't funny, Mal. You need me."

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I do. Which is why you oughta stay here where it's—"

"Safe? Except it isn't, Mal. It's not safe anywhere. Not now. Not with Kane and the Alliance…this is our only chance. And you know as much."

"Don't mean I gotta like it."

She opened her mouth, closed it again, realizing she'd already won. Casually, she slid into the seat beside him.

"You have a plan."

"Now, why would ya say that, darlin'?"

"Oh, I guess I just know you well enough by now. I recognize that look in your eyes."

"Look?"

"Yes, look." She narrowed her eyes. "Scheming."

He smirked.

"Ain't so much a plan as taking advantage of family ties."

Inara bobbed her head once, as understanding dawned.

"Your stepmother."

"Bein' twice widowed by Alliance big wigs has its upside. Namely a pair of tickets in her name for the social event of the year. By the by, is there a single party on the Core what ain't the social event of something?"

"I assumed your stepmother had fallen out of favor…."

"Thought so my own self, till she got to mentioning the invites. Seems Alliance is behind in its blacklisting. That, or our hit on Blue Sun's headquarters resulted in some paperwork being misplaced. That's the problem with paperwork. When some damn Browncoat goes and burns your headquarters to the ground..." He made a 'poof' gesture with his hands. "Either way, seems Esmerelda Webb Fitzgerald's once-good name might just get us in the door. Only part I'm hemming over is Chou. Ain't sure he's the one."

"He is," Inara said softly.

"Shuh muh?"

"Blue Sun has never enjoyed tremendous popularity on Sihnon. Many people see the corporation as an example of commercialization at its very worst. The fact that the Armed Forces Division has always held unchecked authority over the Sihonese citizens…."

"So you're saying Emperor Chou ain't a fan?"

"Hardly. Though sometimes I wonder if it's not more than that. I'd go so far as to say the royal family has a personal grudge against Blue Sun."

Mal raised a brow.

"Don't 'spose you know the reason for this grudge."

"Sorry." She smiled. "But I think we can use it."

"Inara." He met her eyes, perfectly serious. "You got any idea how much it turns me on, hearin' you talk that way?"

She laughed.

"I hope that's not the only thing about me that turns you on, Captain."

Before she could blink, he'd tugged her into his lap and sealed her lips in a kiss.

"Darlin', you don't know the half of it."

---

CRYSTAL CLAIRE'S LADIES' DRESS SHOP, BOROS

"This cut accentuates your pretty shoulders, the line of your back...and your chest of course."

"My bra shows."

"Hmm, yes...you could always go without."

River looked so stricken that Inara had to laugh.

"We'll think of something, sweetie."

"Hey." Mal pounded his fist into the dressing room door. "What's goin' on in there? That gigglin' sounds all manner of expensive."

Behind the French doors, Inara smiled and adjusted the bodice of the sundress River wore. She'd long since selected her own gown and decided the more interesting course would be finding something sweet for River. The deep blue garment suited the girl well, with its delicate spaghetti straps, its dipping back and knee-length A-line skirt.

"Go away, Mal," she called, standing back to admire her creation.

"Yeah, go away, Captain," River echoed.

"How long ya'll expect to be?" he persisted.

For River's sake, Inara rolled her eyes dramatically.

"These things take time, Mal."

"Yes, Captain. Right now, we're learning about bras. Do you know much about the topic?"

"I, uh. Well." He groaned. "Maybehaps I just go wait outside."

"If you like," Inara said sweetly.

River was tugging on her skirts.

"Yes?"

"Say more things about me."

Inara smiled, tucking the girl's hair behind her ear.

"You have such lovely skin. Smooth and creamy. And this blue is just perfect on you. See how pretty it is with your pale skin and dark hair? Yes, I think you simply must have this dress. Do you like it, sweetheart?"

"I look older."

"Sophisticated," Inara corrected. "Elegant."

"The bra's a problem."

"May I see?" She frowned. "Sweetie, this isn't even the proper size."

River smiled, rueful.

"Psychic genius and she can't even pick out a bra."

"Did your mother never take you bra shopping?"

"No. She was very busy. I asked Simon."

"Simon took you? That must have been an interesting experience. For you both, I suspect."

"Didn't turn colors or tug on his ear. Simon's always been there for me."

Inara smiled.

"He's a good brother."

"Yes," River agreed, watching her own reflection in the glass. "This is very pretty. Too much though."

"You mean money? That doesn't matter."

"I don't have--"

"I want you to have it." Impulsively, Inara drew the girl into a light hug. "My heart is just set on it."

"You'll be a good mother...someday." River shrugged, sad.

"Someday," Inara murmured. She held River's dress while the girl laced up her combat boots.

---

Mal strode up to the foot of the table. He folded his arms over his chest and waited for the conversation to lull. Not that his crew was overly talkative past few days.

"Okay," he announced. "That's it."

The crew exchanged meaningful glances before turning to regard Mal curiously.

"What's a matter, Cap'n?" Kaylee ventured.

"This…you all…with the moping! I can't take it anymore. You know, there's the slightest change we don't all die tomorrow. And if we don't…well, won't you just feel all manner o' stupid?"

"Optimism from our fearless leader? Mal, are you feeling alright?"

"Ha ha. Kindly keep the snarkiness to a minimum, Doctor. Now maybehaps this don't end well. Could be this is the end of the line. But, well, even a condemned man's entitled to a last supper, dong ma?"

"Mal." Inara rose to her knees on her chair, leaning close to whisper in his ear. "Perhaps you shouldn't employ the words 'last supper' in a speech intended to boost morale."

"Noted," Mal murmured before turning back to the group splayed before him. "So. Who's gonna cook?"

---

They drank Kaylee's engine wine and ate the meal River and Simon prepared. It wasn't food in the strictest sense, but neither was it awful. Anyway, they were all of them together, alive and healthy, hooch-induced hangovers notwithstanding. Inara could recall other meals taken at this table. She could scarcely pick one out now from the rest, blurred as they were in her memory.

To her left, Kaylee and Simon seemed intent on proving that two objects could indeed occupy the same space simultaneously. Kaylee sat straddling the doctor's lap, her back resting easily against his chest, his arm draped comfortably over her waist. She laughed with her mouth open while Mal recounted part of a story--an old, silly story they'd all heard a hundred times, though that fact didn't make it any less humorous in the telling. Every now and then, Simon bent his head to kiss Kaylee on the cheek. They were so blatantly in love with each other.

Across the table, Inara met Zoe's eyes, and they shared a smile--a secret smile of womanhood and understanding. They spoke in significant glances and soft smiles, each grateful for the other's presence.

Mal's story tapered out, and Kaylee took up the reins.

"Cap'n, remember when you tried talkin' to me 'bout sex?"

She watched Mal laugh, lines of it fanning out from around his eyes.

"Uh, I'm fairly certain that never happened."

"Did so, Cap'n. Was after Bester. You went on for, gosh, musta been an hour 'bout havin' respect for myself and not sexin' men of questionable character."

Mal snorted and gazed pointedly at the doctor.

"See how well she listened."

Kaylee threw a roll at his head, but laughed along with River and Jayne.

"That's funny, Captain." Simon rolled his eyes. "Have you ever thought about stand-up?"

"Now, now, doctor. If Kaylee had to marry someone on this here boat...well, reckon I'm reasonably glad it's you."

"Thanks, Mal. I'm sure there was a compliment in there somewhere."

Mal smirked, stood to refill everyone's glass. At Simon's place, he paused a moment and gave the boy's shoulder a firm squeeze before pouring his wine.

Simon looked surprised but pleasantly so. Kaylee's lashes lowered, as she regarded Mal gratefully.

After another glass and a tale about a newly married Wash strewning his wedding bed with long-stem roses as opposed to petals--and the hour Zoe spent removing thorns from her backside--the crew began to dissipate, stumbling somewhat drunkenly to respective rooms.

In their shuttle, Mal set himself to the task of undressing her, drawing the silky white camisole over her head and wriggling the long, black skirt down her hips. Her outer layers disposed of, he started in on her undergarments. He slid her arms free of her bra straps before unhooking the clasp. Then he looped his thumbs through the waistband of her panties and worked the lace-trimmed lingerie down her thighs.

She lay unmoving, amused, for the duration of the proceedings, allowing him to do as he wished. When she was perfectly naked, he drew her into his arms and, not bothering to remove his own garments, tucked her against his chest. His hands settled over her waist, the tips of his fingers inching down to knead her tailbone.

"Happy?" she teased, and he grunted his approval.

She wrapped a hand around his head and massaged lightly.

"I must say, I feel a little underdressed."

"You look good to me." He opened his mouth to nip at the flesh of her collarbone, and she shivered. He delivered a few more kisses to her throat--soft, breathy ones that gave her goose bumps--before closing his eyes against the black of her hair.

"Mal?" she asked when he'd been silent several moments.

"Guh," he said and she decided to take that as a, "Yes, Inara. I'm listening. What would you like to discuss?" She giggled.

"Wha?" he murmured, cracking one eye. He shifted, and one of his knees pressed between hers. The well-worn khaki of his pants leg brushed the smooth insides of her thighs, making her shiver.

"I--well, I never expected to be asking this question. Usually, you're rather blatant with your intentions. But--well--are we going to have sex here, Mal?"

He smirked.

"Well, let's see now. I do have you naked in my arms," he reasoned.

She elbowed him, and he chuckled.

"Nara, what do you think?"

"I think that, given the circumstances--you being fully dressed and dozing--it's a fair question."

He shrugged, snuggled her closer.

"I just wanna hold you a spell. That alright with you?"

She blinked as a cold, wet fear settled over her lungs.

"Alright," she whispered, though just then, she couldn't think of anything that was less so.

---

SERENITY, MORNING OF THE BIG DAMN DAY

She didn't often dress this way now: a veil over her hair, glitter in her eyelashes. Surely there was a name for the way her neckline dipped, not showin' anything, per say, but givin' a man all manner of ideas.

"How do I look?"

He was fairly certain she'd never asked him that question in all the time they'd known each other. Likely 'cuz she'd seen the answer in his eyes.

The dress was the color of wine—a deep, dark, scarlet—and she looked how it would taste: sharp and pungent, a bite to the tongue.

"Like a queen. Kind would have you beheaded and feel but a pang."

She smiled and lifted his wrist, upturned a handful of gold into his open palm. He uncoiled the chain, saw the ruby teardrop dangling from the dell.

"Help me with the clasp?"

The moment she stepped onto his ship, extended a slender, liberally bejeweled hand for shaking, he'd known who she was, what she was. What she was, was a whore. One who offered her body in trade. And in that moment, feeling the delicate softness of her skin under his calluses, he'd wanted her as he hadn't wanted anything since the day he saw Serenity. And he hated himself for wanting.

"I don't want you there." His fingers brushed her collarbone, and she sighed.

"I know."

He thought he knew her back then. He thought he could read her soul in her smooth, unlined flesh, in the dark crimson of her lip paint. It would be easy to say it was her body he wanted: the lush curve of her breasts, the firmness of her ass. He'd been all over the 'verse and never encountered a damn thing so beautiful as her. He cursed her for making him want that way, embedding in him a desire for something filthy and fancy and foreign. She was a symbol of the Alliance: all he fought against. He called her a whore, said the ugly word to her face; he felt worse when he thought it in his head. But it wasn't the body of the whore what called to him. While he exorcised his need with his fist, he tried to pretend it was only her body.

"Let me do that."

She gave a gentle push so he was sitting on the bed. She stood between his knees, nimble fingers looping his cravat.

He thought he knew her that day in the shuttle. Turned out he didn't even know himself. It wasn't the whore part that rankled him—Nandi taught him he wasn't above bedding whores. In a manner, it was easier with Nandi. Him and her were made from the same stuff. No call for illusions, pretty words or perfumes. They was just ordinary folk, tryin' like hell to get by. Protecting what was theirs and goin' against them that would stand in the way. He called the Heart of Gold whores Independents in jest, but in a way he'd been complimenting them and, in the same breath, insulting -her.-

"You don't belong there."

It was cruel, but he was feeling desperate. She just smiled—woman knew him all too well—and adjusted his collar.

"Don't I?" she teased. In truth, she was right. Ball was her world, not his. "At any rate, you owe me. Our last two parties ended rather abruptly, what with you sustaining bodily injury and all."

Inara was a rebel too, just that, for awhile anyway, she pretended to be otherwise. She might've worked as Companion, but she'd never been whore to no man. To be truthsome, he'd known that all along. Though the jealousy sometimes ate him up inside—made him wanna maim and murder and cause all manner o' mayhem—it wasn't the whore part that hurt. Not really. The real trouble was her making him want. Last time he wanted something, wanted it really an' truly with everything he was, the loss of that something damn near destroyed him. And in earnest, that was the trouble with her. She offered everything, but gave no guarantee it was his for keeps.

From the first day she walked onto his boat, he resented her. Resented her 'cuz he knew one day she'd walk off it again.

Twice she walked off his boat, once of her own volition and once of his. Both times she came back. Deep down in the spots tangled in scar tissue, Mal knew neither of them had the strength to end it again. If he lost her a third time, it wouldn't be by his own stubbornness, or even by hers. It would be at the hands of something other.

"I can't lose you."

She hesitated for a moment. When her fingers steadied, she lifted a bottle of scent, exhaled a puff of something heavenly over her wrist.

"You need me," she said simply.

She meant to breach the party, blend in with the other guests.

"Truer words," he murmured.

"Anyway, this could be my last chance for excitement. After it's over, we'll settle down." She affected a sigh. "I'm afraid life will be frightfully dull."

"You think life with me will be dull?"

She smiled, her mouth soft, her eyes unguarded.

"Not for a second."

---

Girl was perched on the catwalk, legs dangling off into the abyss. Something was different. It took a good few seconds before he realized he'd never seen her hair up. Inara must've done it—the sleek knot seemed too, well, twisty for River to concoct on her own. Of course, girl was a genius. Likely she could master hair stylin' if she set her mind to it. Prolly a few other things 'swell.

"Hey, there."

She smiled. He wondered if he'd ever seen her smile in a way that weren't just a bit too sad. Maybehaps when she and Kaylee played. Or, not that Mal liked to think on this overmuch, but maybe she smiled for Jayne.

"Hi, Captain."

"You, uh." He gestured to her dress, a summery thing the color of blueberries. "Look nice."

She smiled again, and this time it was fuller.

"Old?"

He smirked.

"Oh, twenty-one at least."

She smiled and resumed staring at whatever was so fascinating down in the bay.

"You ever think o' goin' to school? Not that you need…well, schoolin'. But they got universities—reckon there's a bunch would be interested in one like you."

She lifted a brow, and he wondered if after all this time he'd finally managed to surprise her.

"You know I ain't one for traditionalism. Got no use for what's proper. Just figure you got all manner o' potential, honey. Not that I don't love havin' you for my pilot—if I don't say it 'nough, you're a damn good one. But, well, if you wanted somethin' more…." He shrugged. "You're what: nineteen? Just don't want ya feelin' like ya gotta be mama to two babes you never asked for. When this is over…if you wanted to go…well, I'd make sure they was cared for, that's all I mean to say."

"They're pretty—Devon and Epiphany."

He wasn't sure if she meant the names or the babes, so he just shrugged.

"Not too ugly," he agreed.

"You're scared," she observed.

"Don't gotta tell you this 'verse ain't the kindest…specially to those too young to protect their own selves."

"You're not just scared for them. Scared -of- them. You don't wanna love them. But you already do."

Not of a mind to argue with a reader, he just smirked, angling his neck to meet her gaze.

"And what do you want, Lil' Albatross?"

She cocked her head, listening.

"I hear music." She smiled. "A waltz."

"Yeah, comin' from Kaylee's room, I suspect. She's a sucker for that romantic luh suh, downloads it off the—"

"Dance with me, Captain?"

" 'Scuze me?"

"I've never danced with a man before— slow and proper, hands on my waist. Please?"

He scratched a spot near the back of his head.

"River, I—"

"One dance?"

Maybe it was seein' her in that dress, all grown up with her hair on her head. Maybe it was knowin' they weren't walkin' into a ball but a battle, and she wouldn't do much with that dress 'cept wash out the bloodstains. For whatever reason, he groaned and got to his feet.

"Yeah, alright. Hurry up." She didn't move. "What's wrong? Thought you wanted me to twirl ya."

"You have to ask."

"You asked me!"

She made her eyes all big and blinky.

"You been spendin' entirely too much time with Inara," he growled. But he extended a hand. "Would you do me the honor of a dance, Miz River Tam?"

She beamed, letting him tug her to her feet.

"Promise you won't step on me?" He settled his hands on her waist. "I got sensitive toes, darlin'."

She wrapped her little hands round his neck.

"Promise," she murmured. She rested her cheek against his chest.

He sighed and rocked her and hoped like hell none of the crew came callin', as he surely didn't wanna be explaining this.

"Thank you," she whispered. She smiled up at him, eyes soft and grateful.

"Not a problem, darlin'." He sighed again and brushed a kiss over her head. "Not a problem."

---

SHUTTLE TWO, SOMEWHERE OVER SIHNON CITY

They were coming up on the city fast. Looked like Palace airspace extended farther than they'd thought. Mal sighed. Seemed they'd be setting down some distance away, lest they risk getting tagged.

Wincing, he turned to his copilot, who was still somewhat huffy on account of him not letting her fly the shuttle her own self.

"Inara? You, uh, you wearin' good shoes?"

She swiveled slowly, raising a carefully-sculpted brow.

"Good as in expensive?"

"No...no, more good as in durable. Rugged."

"No." She looked suspicious. "I'm wearing ridiculous shoes."

He appraised the strappy, cream-colored sandals and nodded.

"Huh." He had a mental picture of her slipping on some slimy grass and falling on her butt, which likely wouldn't bode well for her--no, his; after all, he paid for the damned thing--three hundred platinum scarlet silk halter dress with its delicate, hand-stitched--

"Mal." She was staring. "What's--?"

"Nothing's wrong. Just...might have to walk some...and it's rainin'."

"How far?"

He wondered how she got out the words with her teeth ground so tightly.

"Well, can't exactly--"

"Mal."

"Klick. Maybe two."

"Great."

"Now, darlin'. Surely you can walk a kilometer."

"Of course I can." In the proper footwear, she amended silently. "But there's a certain matter of respectability. And sopping wet and muddy isn't exactly haute couture."

"Hot what?" he murmured.

If he were paying more attention to her, she'd have rolled her eyes. As it was, his were fixed on the vid screen.

"Never mind." This time she did roll her eyes. "Just get us on the ground, Captain."

Carefully, she slipped off her cream-colored sandals and slid them in the pockets of Mal's coat. He lifted his eyebrows in amusement.

"This ought to be good," she murmured before settling back in her chair.

---

LOTUS PALACE, SIHNON CITY

A tall woman with a cloud of dark red hair cut through the throng before the buffet table. To her left, a waiter passed, balancing a tray of champagne flutes.

"Will you have one, Madame?"

"Xie xie." She chose a half-filled goblet and took a step in the direction of the dance floor. And prompty lost her footing.

"Whoa, now!"

Strong arms grasped her under the elbows, pure blue eyes meeting hers in surprise.

"Oh! I-I'm so sorry." She brushed at the black velvet of her gown. "The floor was unexpectedly slippery."

" 'Sokay." Malcom Reynolds graced her with an easy smile--she noticed the layer of mud caking his boots and guessed correctly that he did not. "Figure it's my own fault, tryin' to get near the popover shrimp."

"You're a brave man," she teased, and laid a hand over his bicep. She was observant enough to note the way his companion's eyes narrowed. "Good luck," she said with a nod at the line, and flashed him a smile and left.

Jessamyn eased through the masses and slipped out onto the verandah. She removed a 'com link from her clutch.

"There's a problem, Mr. Kane." She lay a hand over her chest where her heart pounded. "Malcom Reynolds is here."

The line went silent.

"Mr. Kane?" she asked.

"Alone?"

"Sir?"

"Is he alone, Jessamyn?"

"No, sir. There's a woman with him. Attractive."

"Dark hair and eyes?"

"Yes."

"Christ. What are you doing, Malcom? I can't see the...ohh." He chuckled without mirth. "Your father lacked your guile, my boy."

"Sir? Should I contact Gideon?"

"That won't be necessary, Jessamyn."

"So we're to proceed as scheduled?"

"Personal differences aside, he's still the son of a dear friend. I won't see him come to harm, not when it's in my power to prevent it. I want you to leave the palace and alert security from a safe Cortex screen. Inform the Palace Guards there's an Independent spy on the premises. Malcom and Miss Serra should both be brought back to the city for questioning. Thank you, Jessamyn."

"Yes, Mr. Kane."

---

LOTUS PALACE, AIR DEFENSE COMMAND CENTER

"Hey, open up in there. We got something for you hardworking Palace Guards."

The violet-uniformed officers and staffers swiveled in their chairs. Four men dressed in tuxedos stood outside the door to the Command Center, wielding carts of steaming food. The techie nearest to the door reached over to flip the lock.

"What all this?" he asked.

One of the waiters shrugged and gave his bow tie a tug to loosen it.

"Slight mishap in the kitchens." He gestured to the carts. "Chef prepared these with frozen basil steada fresh. Empress dowager threw a hissy, said to toss it all. Some of us thought we'd bring the trays around to the Guard stations. Good eats, if you boys ain't picky."

The six technicians and operators all looked to their supervisor, who thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Thanks," he said, and motioned for his people to fill plates.

"So what exactly do you guys do here?"

"Air Defense Command. We monitor every object in the skies of the northern hemisphere from this room. Most of it's handled by automatics, but anybody gets with in a hundred klicks of the Spire, without authorization, we flag it a bandit. They still don't heed our warnings, we hand 'em off to WEAPCOMM. Chu over there pushes the Big Red Button, and the bandit has a massively bad day."

"Really?" the waiter asked, offering a tray of mini quiche. "And what does that mean?"

"It means there are over one thousand AAA, SAM, and CIWS emplacements within a fifty kilometer radius. Lemme put it this way, we could scatter an old Trans-U freighter across three time zones."

"Wow."

"Damn, this is tasty." One of the techs chewed thoughtfully. "Sure they don't want it upstairs?"

"You know rich folk," the waiter explained, pausing to make eye contact with his three colleagues. "We live on the same planets, but they're in a whole different 'verse."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Chu agreed. "Could be worse... Could be out on the rim."

The waiters sprang into action, pulling silenced pistols and daggers from their tunics. It was over in seconds, with all six techs and the supervisor lying dead on the floor.

"Were you waiting for his gorramn life story?"

"Stop bitching and disable the defenses. Special Delivery is coming in soon."

"I know, I know." The 'waiter' reached under his cart and grabbed a mini sourcebox. "Once I plug in and run the invasive programming, Commander Gideon will have smooth sailing all the way."

---

LOTUS PALACE, BALLROOM

Inara adjusted the skirts of her ball gown, hoped fervently that the grass stains on her toes didn't show. At least her shoes were dry, protected from the rain during their passage in Mal's pockets. She crossed the space separating them and laid a hand flat on the small of his back.

"I don't like the way she was looking at you, Mal."

He glanced up from his mini spinach-and-bacon quiche in surprise.

"She who?"

"The redhead with the...cat eyes."

Cat eyes?

"Now, now, kitten." He caught her around the waist and kissed her temple. "Retract the claws."

With a dignity that must have taken years to hone, Inara rolled her eyes.

"I'm not jealous, Mal," she hissed. "I'm afraid she may have recognized you."

"Hey, now. Could be she just thought me swai and...yeah, okay," Mal admitted. He jerked his head. "Enough playin'. Let's see if we can't find Chou."

Before Inara could move, fingers were encircled her wrist, squeezing flesh and bone. She refrained from crying out, but her discomfort must have shown.

"Malcom Reynolds, you will come with us," a man intoned.

"Hey, hey." Mal lifted his joined hands in protest. "No need to get grabby. Lady ain't a part of this, now; best you just let her on her way."

"Mal, I'm coming with you," she hissed. Her eyes darted to the pistol, pressed firmly against his rib cage. The dark gray of the metal was a startling contrast with the crisp white of his shirt. She imagined the way red would stain, spreading like a rash over the fabric.

"Inara." He met her gaze, his own entreating. "Please."

"I'm afraid that isn't a matter of negotiation, Captain. The lady will remain in our company for the present."

They had time for a single, searing glance before security was ushering them up the stairs. On the landing, they waited while two of the security force scoped a room.

Under the screen of her lashes, Inara eyed the closest guard. His weapon rested snug against his hip. If she moved swiftly, she could be on him before anyone realized her intention. She started forward, right hand creeping up her side.

The hand snatched her arm inches before it reached her target. She sucked in air as the bones in her wrist rubbed together.

"She's gonna be a problem," the guard murmured.

Beside her, Mal smiled, a tight, worried smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"She always was," he said softly.

Silently promising to repay the guard for every bruise that dotted her flesh, Mal allowed himself to be propelled into the secured space. Was a bedroom--real extravagant-like, too. Had what Inara would call a color scheme: a pallet of peaches and reds and golds strewn over the linens and the curtains, infusing the fine woven carpet and the fussy furniture. He could imagine Inara in a room like this, at home amidst all this pretty. Mal knew damn well that kinda finery weren't for him. Made him all manner o' antsy. And he wasn't just saying that on account of the impending torture.

"Bring Captain Reynolds here. Shackle him to the bedpost, please."

"What are you doing to him?" Inara asked. "I demand to know why we're being held."

"Miss, you crashed the Emperors' Ball with a wanted Neo-Indpendent ringleader. You really aren't in a position to be 'demanding' anything." He returned his gaze to his colleague, eyes cool and emotionless. "Remove his shirt."

She didn't know what they were planning, but she saw the flicker in Mal's eyes. Fear. Fear that they'd hurt him and make her watch.

"Let us speak to Emperor Chou," she pressed, fighting to keep her voice level as they stripped Mal of his shirt. "You can see we've come here unarmed. We're only seeking an audience."

"His Majesty the Emperor is enjoying the opera in the main ballroom. His duty is to his guests now, not common criminals who enter his home uninvited." "Please." She gave a futile struggle as she was manhandled into a chair. Zip-cuffs slid over her wrists, binding them to the wicker. "If you'll just get a message to His Excellency Micah Chou. I'm confident he'll see us."

The security head eyed her with disdain. Slowly, he sank to his knees before her, rested his arms on her lap. Behind him, she could see Mal pull at his restraints.

"And why, Miss," the man murmured, tone low and skeptical, "would the emperor's son agree to a conclave with Malcom Reynolds's whore?"

The plastic chafed her flesh, irritating the wrist already sore from the guard's bone-crunching grip. She lifted her chin, trying hard not to shiver at his cold gray gaze.

"Micah Chou is a dear friend. You'd be wise to inform him that Inara Serra--"

She blinked as his hand drew away, leaving a fiery red print on her face. She fought the urge to cry, not from the pain but the shock. She tried to lift a hand to her cheek, realized too late it was bound to the chair arm.

"Don't tell me what's wise, Ms. Serra."

He laid the back of his hand against the hot flesh of her cheek, the coolness providing unsolicited relief from the sting.

"Let me do my job," he requested. He rose then, turning to see Mal struggling wildly against his cuffs.

"I won't hit her again...unless I have to. If you cooperate, there'll be no reason to hurt either of you."

"I got nothin' to say till Chou gets here. My info's for his ears direct."

"Well, Captain." The man gave a lingering sigh. "It seems I'll be hurting you after all."

"You cut me up 'fore I can deliver my message, your boss won't be too pleased."

"Come now, Captain. Sihnon is a civilized world." He motioned for his associate to apply the electrodes. "We've other means of obtaining information."

"Civilized?" Mal flinched at the coldly familiar press of electrodes to his chest. Was somethin' about the feel of them on the nipple that tended to stay with a man. "My mistake."

He heard Inara's scream before his own drowned it out.

---

He came back to himself shivery and dizzy, still reeling from the last round of shocks.

Okay, so this was a bad idea. Granted, he'd had worse. But this one was up there. Top ten maybe. Eight. He'd rate it an eight.

"Mal."

He dragged in a hard breath and forced himself to answer. No telling what sorta trouble she'd stir up if he didn't. Damned stubborn woman, he thought with no little affection. Couldn't ever just--

"Mal!"

"I'm here, darlin'."

"Talk to me." She tried to sound firm, mighta succeeded if he didn't know her so well; he could hear the panic through the cracks in her words.

"Easy now. Looks a lot worse than--" He clenched his teeth as another burst of electricity coursed through his body. He wouldn't scream this time, he wouldn't--

"Ahhhhh!"

"Let's try this again: what are you doing here, Captain Reynolds?"

"Seems I recall smoke risin' from my body last time somebody did this to me." He glanced down, thoughtful. "Course, I was bein' tortured so might be my memory's a shade hazy."

The palace guard didn't look all that amused with his attempt at humor. To be truthsome, neither did Inara. She'd bitten through her lip in her effort not to cry. He could see tiny beads of blood, ruby-red against the pale pink of her lip. She musta chewed her lip paint clean off.

"Nara?" He had to grind out the words. "My body start smokin' the last time I was tortured?"

"No, baby." She swallowed hard, commanded her tone not to waver. "Last time it was drugs, remember? Wash was with you when you were electrocuted."

Mal nodded, offered the guard a smart-ass smirk.

"She's right. Last time was druuuaaaaahhhhh!"

"Mal?" she asked, softer this time, when his screams had receded into silence.

"You ain't gonna go with me to no more fancy parties, are ya?"

She just smiled.

"Inara...you mind if I sleep a spell?" His head was feeling sorta heavy nowbouts. Lifting it was a struggle. "I'll be back, just...need to rest a minute." She nodded her acquiescence seconds before he passed out from exhaustion. She released her breath, grateful that he had a least a moment's respite from the pain. Her gaze fell on the security head, watching Mal dispassionately.

"Jolt him again."

"No!"

"I'm tired of these games, Miss Serra. Two independent fugitives breached this palace, and I'm keen on knowing why."

"Then I suggest you summon Micah Chou!"

"You weary me. If you weary me further, I may lose my patience with you altogether."

"I don't think you're that stupid."

"You think the prince will protect you just because you shared his bed?"

"I think you'll protect me. If Captain Reynolds and I die, you'll never learn what we know."

The head of Palace Security shook his head.

"We'll see, won't we? Shock him again."

"No!"

The bedroom door flung open. From the corner of her eye, Inara saw sky blue robes sweep the carpet.

"What the hell's going on here?" a man demanded.

"Micah!"

"Inara?"

The security head looked torn.

"Your Excellency, you know this woman?"

"Yes. At least, I did. She and I...we...Inara, what are you doing here?"

"Micah, please. It's imperative we speak to your father."

"You can't be here, Inara. The time we spent together—I've no doubt it was a gift. Without you, I'd never have forgiven myself for Chloe. Or let myself experience... I owe you for all that, and I'm grateful—really. But you shouldn't be here, Inara. You're a--stop it--stop shocking him."

"I'm sorry, sir. We have orders."

"Hump your orders. Cut them loose, Major."

The major hesitated, fingers hovering over the switch that would send 100 thousand volts through Mal's unconscious form.

Micah narrowed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was deathly low.

"Cut. Them. Loose. Major."

Inara bolted from her chair the instant the guard loosed the zip cuffs.

"Mal! Mal, Mal."

She pressed two fingers to his neck, sucked in a relieved breath when she felt the pulse.

"Inara." Micah grabbed her elbow, spinning her to face him. "Inara, what are you doing here?"

"Call your father, Micah." She jerked her arm free of his grasp. "We've a message the emperor will want to hear for himself."

---

He could feel her lips--feather-light kisses to his cheeks and chin, kisses in his hair and over his eyelashes.

"Wake up, Mal."

He did.

"Huh."

Image was a little blurred. Still, it was her alright. He traced her smile with his fingertip.

" 'Sit over? We win?"

"Well," she said diplomatically. "We didn't lose yet."

He smirked, tried to sit.

"Easy," she intoned.

"Where are we?"

"Another room at the palace. We're to freshen up before our meeting with Emperor Chou."

She glanced down at the angry red spectacle of his chest. In a typical show of masculine-Mal bravado, he just shook his head.

"I'm fine, woman. Can hold off on the waterworks. How long we got?"

"They said they'd come for us in a half hour's time. Of course, it took me almost half that to rouse you. Lazy," she admonished, brushing his lips with hers.

He caught the back of her head, drawing the kiss out long enough to explore her mouth's depths with his tongue. He'd expend his last breath getting her out of here alive, but there was a damn fair chance he wouldn't follow. If this was to be the end...well, one goodbye wouldn't cut it. He'd need a whole slew of goodbyes before he was sated.

"Mal."

She was fighting somethin' fierce to be strong. Watching those hwoon dan run currents through his system couldn't have been easy for her. With his finger, he lifted her chin.

"Hey." He couldn't think of anything more profound, so he left it at that.

She let out all her breath on a sigh and nestled into the crook of his shoulder. She curled into him, careful to avoid the burn marks scarring his naked torso.

"I love you," she whispered into the rough flesh of his neck.

"Yeah, I know you do," he drawled, and was pleased when she snorted in response.

They washed hurriedly, though when she tried to fasten his shirt, he nudged her hands away.

"Let the bastards see--should tell him we mean business. Hey, how'd we get the audience anyway? They swayed by my stunning show of bravery in the face of pain?"

"You were very brave, Mal," she assured. "Very brave and just a small bit unconscious."

"Passed out, huh?" He blanched as a new fear took hold. "Inara, they touch you?"

He reached for her arms, obviously intent on conducting his own examination. She shook her head, returning his hands gently to his sides.

"I'm fine, Mal. They didn't touch me, I promise. I--I took a risk. You see, years ago I knew the emperor's youngest son. Micah Chou. He's been living away from Sihnon but I gambled that he'd be here at the palace tonight. Fortunately, he was."

"You--you serviced him?"

"Yes." She met his gaze. "He contracted with me three or four times. After that, we only saw each other in passing--social events and the like. We remained on friendly terms until the Guild relieved me of my duties."

Mal nodded, mulling this new tidbit over.

"And he's the one got us the audience?"

"Yes."

"Huh."

"What?" she asked, weary.

"No, nothin'. Just...couldn't you just let 'em torture me some more?"

He was teasing; the glint in his eyes indicated as much.

"It's over," she said softly. "That part of my life: it's--"

"I know." He moved toward her, wincing at the stiffness in his joints. He inclined his head, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. "Just so long as he ain't prettier 'n me."

He kissed her again before she could wiggle away, was still kissing her when the knock sounded.

Three brisk raps and a man entered, flanked by two guards what seemed to be the strapping sort. In a gesture that wasn't exactly subtle, Mal maneuvered Inara behind him.

"Micah," she greeted.

"Inara." He nodded at her before turning to Mal. "Captain Reynolds."

From the next down he was pretty much what Mal expected. Rich and fancified in his peacock-blue robes and shiny gold sandals. From the neck up, he was somethin' else altogether. His face was too, well, rugged for royalty, his hair a breadth too long, as though he was resisting a trimming on some moral grounds. Mal supposed he was what some women would term exotic--maybe of the same ethnic origins as Inara, though nowdays it was hard to be sure. He felt a twinge of jealousy, covered with an extra firm handshake that the other man echoed.

"I hope your information is good, Captain." Micah's gaze fell on Inara, softened. "For her sake, I hope it's damn good. Let's go."

---

NEO-INDEPENDENT FACILITY, SIHNON

Gideon squeezed his hand into a fist, letting his fingernails bite into the fleshy heel. If he concentrated on the pain—focused all his energy there—he could possibly keep from swaying.

"Commander?"

He fought back yet another wave of sweaty panic, and sucked in a long, slow breath through his nose. His own distaste for the situation was immaterial, irrelevant. It had to be done. They had to see.

"Yes, Corporal?"

"We're about finished loading here. Dr. Meyers would like a word with you regarding the cargo."

"Of course." He unfolded his hand and examined the dark pink crescents marring the ivory. "Dr. Meyers."

"Call me Ana." She flashed a quick, all-business smile and shook his hand. "Take a walk around the bay, Commander?"

"Gideon," he corrected. She smiled again, and he saw that her front teeth were just a little crooked. She looked like Zoe when she smiled, those liquid-chocolate eyes going warm and just this side of soft. "Is it your belief that the cargo is secure for the duration of the trip?"

"Snug as babes in swaddling cloths."

Gideon snorted.

"Baby raptors, perhaps."

He eyed the row of cryo chambers with trepidation disguised as distrust. It wouldn't do to reveal his true fear. Not in front of this Dr. Ana. She had curls like Zoe—a whole mess of them and glazed in gold; Zoe's were black as space.

"I've been working with them going on two years," Ana told him. "They're trained to obey voice commands: no, yes, stop. I've supplied your people with a list."

"How do you—?"

"Behavioral conditioning. That's what you were going to ask, right?" She beamed, tickled as a child showing off her new toy. "We use a system of rewards and punishments. Rewards are meat: goats, small cattle. Punishment is administered in the form of electroshock therapy. They learn at a fairly rapid rate. After a year, we rarely have to resort to the shock treatment."

Gideon had a sudden urge to shock Dr. Ana. That would shut up her mouth—shut the smug mouth with its curling lips like Zoe's. Whore's mouth, like Inara's. He'd apply the cattle prod to the small of her back and watch her slump forward on the floor of the bay. When he lifted her up by the hair, he'd see Zoe's face under all the curls.

"When you land, flip these switches to deactivate the stasis systems. Then you can activate the unlock sequence from a secure distance. As long as you're within one hundred yards of the destination, you won't have to lead them. Their sense of smell is amazingly well-honed," she said breathily.

Gideon nodded.

"I recall that fact." His father had told him to be quiet, and he was. He'd hid in that trunk like a doll, silent as a doll with its mouth sewed shut. Even then they could smell his fear. "Have you moved them in the past?"

"Twice," Ana confirmed. "A facility such as ours…not everyone understands the work we do. I'm sure you know what I mean. Gideon…I wish I were going with you."

"You are in spirit," he told her, and squeezed her hand extra hard when they shook.

---

SERENITY, PASSENGER DORMS, RIVER TAM'S ROOM

She climbed atop his torso, stretching to cover his chest like a vest. He didn't say a word as her cheek came to rest in the hollow of his shoulder, knees locking around his hips. She tailored her breathing to compliment his, fitted her breasts into the hollow of his exhale.

"Soft," River whispered.

"Ain't soft," Jayne growled.

She curled her fingers in his arm hair, pinching the wiry strands until he yelped. She gasped when he grabbed either wrist in a firm hold, restraining them at her sides.

"Behave, else I'll see fit to make you."

Good for both—making believe he was stronger.

"I'll be good," she promised.

His hands stroked a lazy pattern over her back, bare in the places her dress dipped. Maybe he was the strong one.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

He shrugged, the movement upsetting her rhythm.

"Don't much matter if I'm ready or I ain't." He scraped her hair back from her face and massaged her temples. "When Mal calls, we all come runnin', bare-asses and guns blazin'….Ai ya, I wish we'd just go already. Waitin' around this way—it feels like a ruttin' wake!"

The knock sounded before she could ask whose.

"Ching jin," she called.

Jayne saw it was Simon and tried to nudge her off, but she held tight, refusing to budge. She watched Simon's pretty eyes---anger to annoyance to acceptance. She smiled.

"Hi, Simon."

Jayne lifted his head.

"Mal send the wave?"

"Not yet. River…may I have a word?"

She rolled off Jayne and followed her brother into the hall.

"He's squickified," she sing-songed, and poked a finger into Simon's belly.

"He's not…I mean, I'm not…stop making up words. Brat," he added, giving her ear an affectionate tug.

"Serious face," she said softly, fashioning her own in a frown.

"I owe you an apology," he said and made their eyes meet.

Just an expression. She thought about actual eye contact—his blue with her brown, the irises melding to make hazel—and was a little squickified herself.

"What?" he teased, misreading her. "Don't think your big brother can make a mistake?"

"You don't owe me anything, Simon."

"River, listen," he said, and he took her hand between his. "I talked to Kaylee and…I just want you to know things are going to be different after. When this is over, when we make it…." When, not if. Kaylee must be rubbing off on him…rubbing him off. River smiled. "…guess I had to get things straight in my own mind, River. And I'm sorry it took me so long. I really am sorry for that."

She shook her head.

"Don't apologize, Simon."

"We'll do whatever you want, River. If you want to be a mother…or, if you don't…either way, you can count on me. I'll be here, now and always, dong ma?"

Oh. Babies. She didn't want to think about them right now. Instead, she studied her brother with his soft mouth, his scrunched-up forehead. She could see the love in his eyes, bright as the blue.

"You're happy I'm happy."

He looked confused. Then his mouth relaxed in a smile.

"I'm happy you're happy," he agreed. "Just…don't ask me to walk you down the aisle anytime in the near...ever."

She rolled her eyes.

"Won't," she promised.

He smirked.

"You know about protection, don't you?"

"Simon!"

He burst out laughing.

She squealed and closed the door firmly in his face.

Jayne sat on the bed, polishing his .38 with his tee shirt. Blue Sun Brand Ice Cream: So Cold It's Hot. He looked up at her.

"Big Brother all manner o' squickified?"

She smiled. She straddled his hips and took his face in her hands and kissed him, the snub-nosed pistol cradled like a baby between them.

He opened his eyes, and she saw into them. Blue like Simon's but not. A cold, hard, fierce, beautiful blue. A surprised blue.

"You wanna…now?"

She lay back on the bed, guiding him with her hands. He settled in the valley between her thighs, and his thighs rubbed her thighs until her sundress was bunched at her waist, and her body felt warm and tight and wonderful, and her head felt light and airy and empty.

"Kiss me," she whispered, and he did.

He kissed her everywhere—forehead, cheeks, neck, chest. He kissed her eyelids and her chin and her belly and her breasts. He trailed kisses down her thighs, lifting one, shapely leg to tongue the underside of her knee, and she couldn't help wishing her knee was her lips because that's where she wanted -his- then. She wrapped him in her arms and squeezed, and he squeezed back, and soon their mouths were level, and he was -drinking- her. She could feel him through his pants, through the thin fabric of her underwear. Maybe she could feel him through the skin of her.

She liked the undressing part almost, but not quite, as much as the other parts--liked the feel of his rough, work-worn fingers as they lifted her hips, dragged her underwear down slowly to bare her to him inch by inch. Stripped, she shivered and tingled, and reveled in the naked desire she read on his face. In an instant, she felt the strength of a hundred dripping swords, red with the blood of those that would see hurt what was hers.

Power. Pleasure. Jayne.

She bucked against him, and he lay a rough hand over her belly, and her belly quivered, and he held her to the bed, held her still. He lowered his lips to her breast, and she arched up into his mouth, filling him.

His free hand closed over her free breast, and he cupped and molded and caressed.

"Good fit," he said, and their eyes met, and his were full and heavy, and for a second both could see and hear and know, and what they knew was truth.

But she didn't want to know so she closed her eyes and opened her thighs, and he thrust into her, sliding deeper and deeper until he pierced something that didn't hurt but hurt a lot, and she dug her nose into his neck so he wouldn't see her cry.

"Girl? River, you--?"

"Fine," she told him. "I'm fine."

And she clung to his hot, hard chest and wished she could melt into him and be inside him.

"Fine, fine, fine." She chanted as he stroked, white-hot and throbbing.

"Hell, girl. Better be more 'n fine."

He gave one final thrust, and she shattered under the force of a hundred stabbing swords and a thousand princely kisses, and they saved eachother and were saved in turn.

It hit her in the afterglow, when Jayne's mouth was still wet on her chest, his penis still pulsing inside her. She felt the sharp teeth and the hot, hot breath, and she heard scream after sobbing scream. She felt it all and tried to stop him from feeling, but he was inside her--body and mind and places less tangible--and he felt it too and shuddered and rolled onto his side and was sick on the floor.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She chanted the words like his name while he wiped his mouth and dragged on his trousers.

"Can we stop 'em?" he asked, breathless. "Hush, girl."

He kissed her mouth, and his tasted sour from when he was sick.

"Can we stop the Reavers? Can we rescue Nara and the cap'n?"

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, tiny drops that she lapped up with her tongue.

"I don't know," she whispered.

---

LOTUS PALACE, EMPEROR CHOU'S PRIVATE QUARTERS

Micah waited till Mal and Inara were seated before beginning the introductions.

"Inara Serra, Captain Reynolds. This is my father, His Majesty Emperor Chou."

Chou leaned back in his chair, regarding the newcomers over the cherrywood expanse of his desk. He was older than Mal expected, seventy maybehaps, with graying hair and features more delicate than those of his son. Mal glanced at Inara, wondering if she too was surprised at the old man's apparent vulnerability. But her dark eyes were solemn, expressionless. He realized she'd likely seen the emperor before, maybe even met him a time or two. He felt a rush of admiration for her, for the grace and poise she projected when inside she was most like feeling as panicky as his own self.

"Micah, you know these individuals?" Chou asked at length, one bejeweled hand stroking the smooth surface of the cherry.

From his station against the wall, Micah folded his arms over his chest.

"Ms. Serra is a former Companion of House Madrassa. She and I knew each other some time ago. Before tonight, I'd never met Captain Reynolds."

"And in what context were you and Miss Serra acquainted, my son?"

"A personal one," Micah said cooly. His eyes slid over Inara before coming to rest on his father once again. "I don't know why she and Captain Reynolds came here tonight, but the least I can do is give her the chance to explain. In truth, I owe Miss Serra a debt of gratitude."

"Oh?" Chou lifted a brow. "And why is that?"

"At the risk of sounding repetitive, father, the answer is also personal."

"I see. Captain Reynolds?"

Mal looked up, somewhat distrated by the turn of topic.

"Yes, sir?"

"You understand I do not appreciate having my home invaded in such a manner. This day is an important one to myself and my family, and your presence here has taken me from my responsibilities as host."

"I understand that, sir. Trouble is, you're not the easiest man to reach. Saw an opening in the Ball, and I took it."

"From what I've heard of your exploits, Captain, it would not be the first time you put your own interests above those of the general public."

Inara sucked in a breath. Mal lay a hand on her thigh, shook his head 'no.'

"Never claimed to be a hero, sir. Ain't nothin' but a man tryin' to protect me and mine from those would cut us down. Course I happen to believe what's best for me and mine and what's best for the public do in fact coincide. If you're referring to the Miranda message, as I 'spect you are, then I stand by my actions. People needed to hear that woman's words. They needed to see for themselves just how capable Alliance really is."

"And the museum in Capital City? Is it also your belief that those children had to die?"

"No, Your Majesty." His throat felt tight. "It really isn't."

"I don't appreciate you coming here, Captain. But as a favor to my son, I will hear what you have to say. If I determine your information is of no use, I will immediately turn you over to the Sihonese authorities, dong ma?"

"I understand."

"And we'd be trading for…?"

"Intelligence. Was sent to me by one would rather see things done a different way. The intel coming to me was a sure sign things worked out as he feared, for him at least."

"This intel, Captain. What form does it take?"

"It's a list. Dates and places. Everywhere Neo-Independent leader Amos Kane will be for the next three months."

"And you can procure this list?" Chou asked.

"It's been destroyed. Both hard copy and electronic records."

"You've committed the contents to memory," Chou murmured, faintly impressed.

"Just me. No one else on my crew's even seen the document."

"We could always resume the torture…"

"And I can lie like a dog. You wanna roll the dice?"

"If we agree to your requests…you'll turn over this information, Captain?"

"I will," Mal agreed.

"For a price."

Mal met the elder man's shrewd gaze.

"It's my belief that Amos Kane needs stopping, sir. But there's conditions. Alliance been troubling me and mine for some time now. I want it over."

"You've upset a great many men, son. Powerful men."

"Always did seem to excel at that."

"I fear any bargain we reach here tonight would not be good for you, Captain Reynolds."

"That's not acceptable," Inara snapped.

"Inara," Mal murmured. He met her eyes, and she saw in his a plea. -Don't make a fuss. Don't make this harder.- "And the others?" he asked.

"This deal hinges on your crew remaining in Sihnon City until Kane is successfully apprehended. At the time of his capture, Miss Serra and the others will be released.

"And Mal?" Inara murmured.

Chou looked away.

"He'll be brought up on charges," Micah said quietly. "Treason against his government, conspiracy to commit murder, inciting public rebellion. He may receive a mitigated sentence in light of his cooperation. Even then, the best he can hope for is twenty-five years to life in an Alliance prison."

She looked at Mal, and he didn't flinch. He knew. He knew this was a probably outcome. -Damn you, Mal. Damn you for sacrificing yourself and for thinking I'd go along with it.-

"Find another way."

"Inara, be reasonable," Micah began. "You can't expect—"

Chou cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"I'm not a humble man, Miss Serra. But even I haven't sway to save the notorious Malcom Reynolds."

---

The lumbering old transport hovered in mid air momentarily before setting down with a soft hiss on the palace lawn. Gideon gave no orders as the crew efficiently carried out its duties.

"Stasis system shut down. Cargo should be coming 'round."

"Thank you, sergeant." Gideon keyed his radio to the unit-wide channel. "Special Delivery's on the ground. Package will arrive momentarily. Skinwalker-6, start coordinating with Tax Collector. Locate any targets not in the main ballroom." He turned quickly to hide the shiver. "Reavers can take out those on the floor."

Through the portal, Gideon watched his cargo stir in the isolation chambers. Soon all were free, snarling and stalking, pounding at the door of the cargo bay.

It took him two attempts before his hand was steady enough to flip the switch that released the door locks. Unblinking, he watched the blur race toward the gleaming white walls of the centuries-old palace, tearing up the lawn in their frenzy to feel flesh. Even from his post on the flight deck, he could hear their screams.

He thought he saw Mal's face reflected in the glass, grimacing at Gideon in blatant disappointment. As though Gideon were a naughty child and Mal the weary father, waiting in the background to dispense punishment. -You should have stood beside me, Mal. I was strong. You were weak. You failed to do that which had to be—-

"Commander Gideon..." The sergeant tugged purposely at his sleeve. "Please confirm, sir. Your target is Emperor Chou. He has left the ballroom and is on third floor, section twelve."

"Roger that, Sihonese Emperor, plus incidentals. Third floor, section twelve." Gideon read back. "Got a room number?"

"Negative, Commander. But the throng of guards outfitted in red oughta be a good clue."

---

"One other addendum, Emperor." Mal raised a hand. "There's two children. Babies. A DNA test will prove they're mine, but some folk over at Blue Sun believe otherwise."

Chou winced.

"I've little use for Blue Sun, or its many subsidiaries."

"Well, I'm with you there. Mind if I ask after your beef with Blue Sun?"

Chou glanced at Micah.

"Blue Sun is an evil, evil corporation, Captain."

"Don't much disagree on that note. Could you maybehaps be more specific?"

"It's a private matter."

"We're on the verge of avenging Chloe's death, Father." Micah cast his gaze toward the window. "They might as well know the why."

"Fair enough," Chou agreed. "Years ago, my son was enamored with a girl. A blond-haired, freckle-faced young lady—extraordinarily bright. She was sixteen. Micah was nearly eighteen, and his mother and I preferred that he focus his attention on his schooling. Also—I'm ashamed to admit to such snobbery—the young woman's rather humble background rendered her an ill-suited match for a prince.

"I became aware of a program—an academy of sorts, one for extremely gifted children. I wrote a glowing letter recommending the girl. The director contacted me at once, said they typically preferred younger students, but would of course honor any request of the Sihonese emperor. So she left for Osiris. Micah didn't speak to me for three weeks."

Father and son exchanged pregnant glances. Mal looked away.

"She didn't come back, did she…."

The emperor snorted.

"She came back. Before she left, she was enrolled in college courses at the University. She returned to Sihnon with the average IQ of a seven year old. They said she'd had an accident. Her name was Chloe."

Beside him, Inara visibly stiffened.

"Micah, you never told me it was--"

"Ta ma duh hwoon dan," Mal swore, his mind on another little girl.

"Yes." The emperor gave a nod, eyes glinting with irony. "Sometime later, I learned of the academy's affiliation with one Blue Sun Brigade. Naturally, I tried to have the organization shut down. My request was declined, politely of course, by the heads of Parliament. It would seem Blue Sun has hands in many pies."

"That's truer than you know. Still, I need your word those kids'll be left alone. Without them, deal's off."

"I give you my word, Captain Reynolds. I'll see your children protected."

Mal nodded.

"Well, shiny. So what happens now?"

"You'll be kept under guard for the remainder of the evening. In the morning, we'll transfer you to a holding facility."

"Can I swing by the buffet table one more time?"

"I have some contacts in the legal arena," Micah offered, as though Mal hadn't spoken. "I'll make sure he's assigned competent counsel."

"And Inara?" Mal slid his gaze to Micah. "You'll watch out for her?"

"Mal," she whispered, her eyelashes pressing in panic. "Don't—"

"I will," Micah said quietly. "I failed Chloe. I won't fail Inara. Or you. Now, we should probably—"

"Emperor Chou!" Three quick knocks, and the head of the Imperial Guardsmen burst through the door, flanked by two lesser officers. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. It's imperative I see you at once."

"This is a private meeting, Major. Perhaps I can—"

"Forgive me, Your Majesty. This can't wait."

"I see." Chou motioned to the other guards. "Please escort Captain Reynolds and Miss Serra to separate rooms."

"Father…I'll take Miss Serra myself."

Chou nodded his acquiescence, and Mal rose offering his hands for the guard to cuff. Micah took Inara's arm and started leading her toward the door while Chou and the leader of the Guard conversed in whispers.

"—air defense system….off-line…unidentified vessel landed on the main lawn…."

"Mal, no. Please, wait." Inara struggled to break free of Micah's hold on her forearm. The prince looked to Mal for support.

"Inara. It's okay, dong ma?" Mal tried to catch her eye. "You gotta be strong now. Listen to me, darlin'. You gotta be—"

The scream cut through Inara's protests, Micah's entreaties and his own halfhearted assurances. It rose above the din of conversation and the soothing lull of the orchestra until it filled their ears and the air, and it was all anyone could hear.

"What in Buddha's name was that?" Chou demanded.

The leader of the Imperial Guard looked terrified.

"I think they're Reavers, Your Highness."

---

LOTUS PALACE, AIR DEFENSE COMMAND CENTER

Alarms sang out, piercing the quiet of the Command Center.

"Ta ma duh! We have inbound again!"

The mission leader shrugged, stacking his feet up on the console.

"What do we care?"

"Uh... I think it's Serenity, sir."

"Xing jiao dai yi tai da zhuang ji he er shi ying chi bei bu yong you zhi tu dizai jiu ba de wo! Get the defenses back online NOW."

"I can't! Our viruses were designed to take the system -off-line- and keep it there."

"I don't ruttin' care! Serenity's Malcom Reynolds's ship. If he lands, this plan is well and truly screwed. Now I want you to put him down and put him down -hard-!"

The commando typed furiously, while the icon for Serenity ticked ever closer to the Palace.

"I have partial control!" the mission leader announced.

---

SERENITY, SOMEWHERE OVER SIHNON CITY

River slammed the throttles wide open, and the constant thrum of Serenity's air-breathing engines became a deep, base roar.

"Nothing personal, honey." Zoe reached down to give the girl's shoulder a squeeze. "But I kinda wish my husband was sitting in that chair steada you.''

"Yeah, Zo," River said in a voice not her own. "He wishes he was sitting here, too."

Before Zoe could respond, the moment had passed.

"Imperial Palace, coming up fast," River warned.

"Nothing on the threat detectors... just normal air-traffic stuff."

Zoe glanced frantically across the screens. The deedle-deedle-deedle tone of the warning system broke the tense silence of the cockpit.

"Search radar!" She keyed the shipwide 'com system. "We're being painted. Everybody strap in."

Zoe had no illusions about her ability to fly this thing, never did have the desire to try. But she'd watched her man enough times. She knew that, while Serenity may be fast in space, where all it took was a half-decent stardrive and a favorable power-to-weight ratio, things were a good bit different in atmo. Sleek as she looked, Serenity was only slightly more aerodynamic than a brick. Without wings, all her maneuverability came from the same air-breathing engines that gave her speed. That very fact gave her phenomenal pitch, roll, and yaw, if the pilot was worth his weight. Or hers.

"Height finder,'' Zoe announced, her voice unwavering. "They're targeting us."

Red lines appeared on the threat direction indicator, pinpointing the location of the various hostile radars.

"Walk me through this?" River murmured.

Zoe gaped.

"Um, River…who you talkin' to?"

"Less talking would be preferable." River reached back and flipped a series of three switches, ones of which she'd had Kaylee install especially for her. The buttons bypassed the normal avionics control and gave her differential control of the engines.

"SAM's in the air," Zoe muttered. "One, two..."

"Only two?" That cadence in River's tone…if Zoe didn't no better she'd think it sounded an awful lot like-- "Not feeling the love."

"That's four," Zoe countered. "Happy now?"

"Yes.'' River rolled Serenity onto her side and banked hard around the first missile, then reversed her turn to slip around the second. She let the bank slide out and dove under the last two missiles.

"Ground's comin' up awful fast..."

"Nag, nag, nag." River righted the ship and rotated the engines forward, sending Serenity into a steep dive.

"Great flying, honey." Zoe struggled to right the contents of her stomach. "We're slowing down."

"Not good,'' River argued. "Before, we were a fast target. Now we're a slow target."

Jagged lines of tracer fire sped through the sky. Kaylee's voice sounded over the 'com.

"We're hit!"

"Just some ground fire, we're still shiny." The ship began to shudder as more and more of the guns drew a bead on them. "That was the NAVSAT transceiver... Hull breech in the cargo bay….Breech in the stardrive section..." -Wash. Oh, baby, I wish you were here.-

"Me too, baby," River said, and Zoe turned to look at her sharply. "Me too."

---

Mal whirled on the emperor, one hand clamping firmly over Inara's wrist. He was bruising the bone, but just then he scarcely noticed.

"You got a vault?" he demanded. "Someplace solid with doors that lock? You gotta give the order now. Get everyone outta the ballroom. Elsewise your shiny shindig's bound to turn into an all-you-can-eat Reaver banquet."

Chou's eyes widened.

"This is madness."

"What's a matter, Highness?" Mal fairly growled. "Don't believe in Reavers? Think they're just campfire stories? Stuff of tales and nightmare?"

"I'm not a fool, Captain Reynolds. I know these men exist. But to encounter them here, on a Core world…I was assured they'd never venture this far."

"So much for Alliance assurances. Now what about that vault?"

"Your Majesty?" One of the Imperial Guardsmen burst through the door, chest heaving in exertion. "Looks like we have another ship entering Palace airspace….It could be more of them."

Micah swore in colorful Mandarin.

"Do you have visual?" the prince snapped.

"We read it as an later-model Firefly...aught three."

"No," Mal said hoarsely. He released Inara long enough to grab the guard by the lapels of his fancy suit. "Tell them not to land. Ai ya, you tell 'em now!"

"We can't get to the Command Center," the guard stuttered. "Whole lower level's on lockdown. Imperial's fleet's been landlocked as well."

Chou looked stricken.

"We can monitor the Firefly from here." Micah rounded his father's desk, pressed a sequence of keys to trigger a plasma screen. "This should bring up the air traffic control screens."

"Prince Micah. Emperor Chou. You have to evacuate the Palace immediately. The Guardsmen will take care of your family, but we need to get you out now."

"On foot?" Mal scoffed. "That'd be suicide."

"He's right," Micah said, pointing to a second screen that monitored the perimeter around the palace. "They have us surrounded. Ta ma duh!"

"Dear God, they're firing!" Chou whispered. The others turned to gape at the screen. "They're firing on your ship, Captain."

"Your Highness, I've just received confirmation that Representatives Kenton and Liou have been assassinated."

"Assassinated! By whom?"

"Strike teams. They hit Kenton in the ladies' room, Liou just off the verandah…" The Guardsmen cocked his head, listening to his ear set for a moment. "General Trey's been hit too, no word on whether or not it's fatal."

"Dear God." The emperor turned blazing eyes on Mal. "Did you know about this? Did you know what those lunatics were planning?"

Mal's voice was a low growl.

"You think I'd have brought my people anywhere near this if I'd known? More I see into this, more I think Kane's the only one with the big picture. Rest of us never saw more than he wanted."

On the emperor's private security monitor, Malcom Reynolds watched his little ship weave sinuously through the Palace's grid. Was a damn sweet sight, too. Mal knew of just two people could fly like that, and one of them was dead.

"They're gonna make it," he whispered. "Just watch, they're gonna—"

Yellow flashes of light, unaccompanied by any other groundfire told Mal that the air-to-ground lasers had opened up. Invisible shafts of energy reached up to caress his ship. Every yellow flash signaled where one of the deadly beams touched his ship, burning hideous black scars over her hull. Green lights joined the yellow, carving away bits of her body as Serenity fell through the sky. He actually watched the amethyst beam cut across the sky. If he could see the laser with the naked eye…he didn't even want to think on how powerful it was.

He felt a wave of nausea, clammy fingers stealing up his spine. His vision dulled to two white points, and he swayed violently, struggling to stay upright.

"No, no, no," he murmured.

He wasn't aware he'd said spoken the words aloud until Inara squeezed his hand. He felt her fingernails embed deep in his palm, and he latched onto her hand, clutching to the pain that was real and physical as opposed to the other kind.

Serenity was less than a klick away when the fate she'd escaped so many times before finally came calling, came to demand her due. The purple beam slashed across the main hull, cleaving the ship in two. Her conical aft section fell away while the forward portion continued to descend. Without the tapering tail, her aerodynamics were shot all to hell. She wouldn't even be able to hover proper, what with her center of mass all mucked. Even if she could put down soft, she wouldn't fly again; she was through.

Mal watched Serenity—his baby, his first love, his savior—fall down to earth, guided by the sure hand his albatross, and probably bucked up by Lil' Kaylee. She made her final approach on one of the upper landing pads, her tail end all aflame.

---

END PART 1


	31. Finale, Part 2

Bed and Wine: The Finale, Part 2

By Kaynara

---

The Big Damn Bed and Wine Finale, Part Deux. NC-17 for a whole galaxy of reasons

---

AN1: Wow. This is the end. (Barring the Epilogue, which is coming soon, I swear.) I'd say something more profound, but I'm kind of in shock. For now, I'll just say thank you. Thanks for reading and for all your incredibly kind words. Your comments mean so very much. Oh yeah: please log in and leave some. ;)

AN2: Many, many thanks go to Grimlock. Most of the fight choreo belongs to him, as do some kick-ass lines. He's also the best beta in the 'verse.

---

The fall from space shook the dinosaurs free. Even the dirt-crawlers were airborne now, rising above the console with newly-acquired aptitude for flight. Zoe stretched out her arm, catching a free-falling triceratops in the palm of her hand.

---

Her baby. Someday she'd have a daughter. She'd be real bright. Kaylee always knew she had a gift for machines--her daddy said so when he was alive, and when he was gone, the cap'n said it for him. But when it came to other stuff, non-mechanical stuff, she was just the same as other folk. Not special. Not like Simon and River. Her baby girl would be smart like them, though--she could feel it in her gut. And she'd be a looker, too. Genetics seemed to have blessed the Tams special, and Kaylee knew any baby of Simon's would be somethin' to marvel at. She'd love the girl to pieces, and she and Simon would be so proud of her 'complishments, showering her with praise and encouragement. Yep, she'd have a daughter one day. A bright, beauty of a baby girl. But Serenity would always be her first baby--her eldest. And now that baby was dead.

-I'm sorry, girl. I'm sorry they hurt you so bad. And I'm sorry I can't fix it.-

She watched her girl huff smoke and bleed out oil.

-Wherever the Cap'n is, he's real sorry, too, baby. Oh, Cap'n. I'm sorry I failed you, Cap--both of you. 'Long as you can keep her in the sky.' Guess that means I'm fired, Cap'n...-

A watery smile graced her face.

"Kaylee?"

"Yeah, Simon?"

He didn't say anything more--no platitudes or assurances. Just took her hand in his, and walked them both away from the wreck that was Serenity.

---

"This is wrong. Just plain wrong." Jayne's eyes roamed the mostly-deserted halls. "They shoot at us with guns enough to knock the gorramn moon from the gorramn sky, but once we land it's like, 'hey, c'mon in and have a latte.' Hell, that's just capricious."

Simon arched a brow at both 'latte' and 'capricious' coming from Jayne's mouth within the span of a sentence. He reached for Kaylee, molding her hand to his.

"Jayne's right," Simon said quietly. "Something is very wrong here."

"Reavers," River murmured.

Beside her, Kaylee shuddered, squeezing Simon's fingers hard enough to bruise bone.

If Kaylee and Simon had a baby, it was bound to be a painful experience all around. Dragon baby. In spite of it all, River smiled.

"Guests are trapped in the ballroom," she said, pronouncing the words slowly. "Ball guests in a barrel."

"River?" Zoe waited for the girl to meet her gaze, and Simon was relieved to find River's calm and lucid. "How many Reavers?"

"Don't know." She whipped her head, loosing her hair from Inara's careful twist. "Too many. Oh, God, Captain and Inara!"

Simon started to go to her, but Kaylee beat him to it.

"It'll be okay, sweetie," she soothed. "Don't the cap'n always protect us? Keep us safe?"

"Safe." River smiled. "Yes."

Jayne looked at River a long moment before sliding his gaze to Simon.

"Here, Doc." Casually, he offered his revolver. "Cady here's a standup gal.Ya' got nine rounds in the cylinder and one buckshot in the smoothbore under the barrel."

"Thank you." Simon met the older man's eyes. "Thank you, Jayne."

He pocked the extra ammo and slid the weapon in the back of his waistband. Beside him, Kaylee accepted Zoe's revolver. She looked at it a moment before tucking it into her coveralls.

"Okay, people," Zoe began. "Here's the plan: we find the captain, we find Inara, then we find a way off this rock. Got it?"

"Zoe?" Kaylee asked softly. "Where we gonna go? I mean, Serenity—she ain't movin'."

"I don't know yet, Kaylee. But the captain…Captain'll think of something."

"Hold on, guys... think I might have an idea." Kaylee reached out and grabbed a passing Palace Guard by the sleeve. "Gimme an update, mister!"

Jayne looked to Simon, who raised a brow in surprise. -Don't look at me.- "Lady, are you high or just stupid?"

"Way-wrong answer, pal!" Kaylee bellowed, in a tone considerably louder than Simon would have thought possible. "Word is you boys been humped. BSAF sent us to clean up the mess." She dug her elbow between her husband's ribs. "Right, Sergeant?"

Simon cleared his throat.

"Um, yes? I mean, yes."

Kaylee glared at the rest of the crew, who stood straighter and attempted to look menacing.

"Can I have your authori—?"

"Oh, no. I really hope you ain't askin' for authorization codes in the midst of a big—crisisy thing! Nuh-uh, mister. You ain't even cleared to see our faces!" Kaylee folded her arms over her chest. "Now, what you're gonna do is you're gonna get me a terminal for the building's security net, and then you're gonna get your sorry ass outta my sight. Dong ma?"

"Yes, ma'am," the guard answered. "Of course."

Wide-eyed, Simon watched as the guard supplied Kaylee with a wireless sourcebox that tied into building security. He was about to scamper off when Jayne clamped a meaty fist over his shoulder.

"Hey. Before you go hide in a closet or somethin'... You wouldn't happen to have an armory…?"

"He can't decide what's worse," River whispered near Simon's ear. "Jayne with more guns, or Jayne angry."

"Dammit, River." Kaylee clamped a hand over the girl's mouth. "If we start giggling, this is shot all to hell."

"You enjoyed that, didn't you," Zoe said mildly when the guard had gone.

Kaylee looked embarrassed.

"Ain't sure what you mean, Zoe." Her tone was prim and proper and faintly Inara.

Jayne grinned and thrust an elbow into Simon's ribs, which were really starting to sing from all the attention.

"She like that in bed, Doc?"

---

A knock sounded at the door to the emperor's chambers. Poised to one side, Micah jumped and reached for his weapon.

" 'Sokay, Your Majesty." Mal crossed the thick Persian rug and held the door for the Guardsmen. "Reavers don't knock as a rule."

"Emperor Chou. We have confirmation that the Empress Dowager and Prince Raini are en route to the roof. We've managed to release the landlock on one of your ships. Are you and Prince Micah prepared to evacuate?"

"What's the status on my wife and daughter?" Chou demanded.

The older of the Guardsmen met his eyes.

"They're still in the ballroom, Highness. We haven't been able to get to them."

The emperor made a sound like a moan. Mal looked respectively at the floor.

"Are they alive?" Chou asked.

"Sir...we lost visual five minutes ago."

Chou nodded jerkily before turning to his son.

"Go with them, Micah. Go with your grandmother and brother."

Micah shook his head, eyes wary.

"What about you?"

Chou frowned at the vid screen.

"I'm not leaving until I'm certain your mother and Amina are safe. And that help's on the way for those poor people…."

"Sir," the Guardsman began. "I'm gonna have to advise against you staying--"

"I'll take your advice under advisement," the emperor snapped. Then, more gently. "Thank you, John."

"So I'm just supposed to go?" Micah demanded. "Leave the rest of you here to...to...?"

"I need you out of harm's way, Micah." Chou spoke softly, hands on his son's shoulders. "If something happens to me...I need to know you're alright. The people of Sihnon will look to you for leadership."

"Dad--"

"I'll take care of your father," Mal promised. "Or die in the trying."

Micah lowered his gaze to Mal's chest, and the burn marks that marred the flesh.

"With all due respect, Captain, it's the dying that worries me."

"Hey." If he weren't offended, he might have been amused. Prince had a sense of humor. Hell, if Micah and Nara were somewhat less acquainted, he might have decided to like the kid.

"Your daddy comin' outta this alive is the only chance I got. He don't make it, my crew can look forward to a shiny future of government-sponsored torture." If his crew was still alive. He shoved the thought away the second it took hold--if there was grieving to be done, it would have to wait. "Prison food and cell doors, death by firing squad or somethin' equally unpleasant. I want better for them. I want them to have a life." His tone was even, his gaze fixed on Inara.

Micah hesitated, eyes darting between Mal and his father.

"Micah." Inara laid a soothing hand on his upper arm. "You can trust Mal. He'll keep your father safe."

"I surely will," Mal said quietly. "Just like I know you'll keep Inara safe."

Inara turned quickly, understanding dawning as her eyes changed from their usual deep brown to a hot, molten gold.

"Mal, no."

"Inara." He lifted his fingers to her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Go with the prince now. Please."

"I'm not leaving you, Mal!"

"Prince Micah, we have to evacuate," the Guardsman intoned.

"Wait," Micah commanded. "Inara?"

She glanced at Mal, the look in her eyes helpless and hurting and vaguely murderous. Oh, but she wanted to hit him, he mused. She wanted to smack him good and hard, and in someplace that hurt. He seemed to have that effect on women--inspiring them to do violence. He graced her with a wan smile.

"I'm asking you, Inara. Do this for me."

Slowly, she shook her head.

"Not this time, Mal."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she lifted her fine chin, and when she met his gaze, her own was soft and unwavering. She smiled, and gorrammit, he almost grinned back at her.

Forcing Inara to do something she weren't keen on was one thing. Not always pretty, but well, she didn't weigh a whole lot--easy enough to pick up and carry her. Askin' her to do somethin', though--that's where the rub came. He winced, realizing he ought not to be pairing Inara and rubbing in his head at a time like this. Was bound to distract a man, and render his judgment blurry. And Mal needed all his wits about him if he was gonna cajole her into--

The sound of gunshots startled them all. Within seconds, one of the Guardsmen was propelling the prince through a doorway while another herded Mal and Inara back inside the emperor's chambers.

She fell against him and he squeezed her an extra second, though he half wanted to strangle her.

"I do love you, woman," he said instead, and even though it come out sounding like a threat, she smiled brilliantly.

"I know."

---

Behind Kaylee, Zoe dropped to her haunches. She studied the sourcebox screen over the girl's shoulder.

"You in the system yet, Kaylee-bird?"

"I'm tryin' but everything's all mucked...looks like Kane's people scrambled the security codes. Keep anyone from comin' or goin'..."

"What about the 'com system?" Zoe pressed.

Kaylee pursed her lips.

"Gimme a minute."

"Broadcast our location?" Jayne scoffed. "Gee, can ya think of a dumber notion?"

"Only way to contact the captain, Jayne."

"Yeah, 'cept for the part where we don't got a clue which of these hundred-some-odd rooms he's holed up. Or, if he's even…" Jayne let the statement trail off into silence.

"Don't see another way," Zoe responded, rising. "Have to buzz every room, starting with the ones most likely…River?"

The girl stood in the center of the room, swaying in time to her own music, or on a breeze whose whisper only she could feel.

"Mei-mei?" Simon tried, reaching out to touch her cheek.

"Hush; we're talking."

"River—"

"Rude to interrupt!"

"I—sorry."

He shrugged at Kaylee, sheepish.

"River, honey, can you hear the cap'n?" Kaylee pressed.

"They're very loud," she said on a sigh. A smile split her face before she burst into giggles.

Zoe wondered what Mal said to make the girl laugh so, then wondered if she was going crazy as River. Maybe they were all of them wrong in the brainpan, but fact of it was Mal seemed to have a special bond with the girl.

"River?"

She opened her eyes.

"Mal won't leave till the emperor's safe. Chou won't leave till wife and daughter are safe. They're in the ballroom. They were alive ten minutes ago."

"Trade our family for the lives of some blue bloods?"

"Jayne." Zoe eyed him severely. "You know Mal wouldn't ask it if there was another way. We need Chou with us to--"

"I know." Jayne shrugged. "Anyway, we got all this fine weaponry." He clipped the light machine-gun to his harness, the sides of his face cracking in a grin. "Be a shame if we didn't get to use it."

"Lift's jammed." Kaylee observed, eyes scanning cortex feeds. "We'll have to take the stairs."

"Well, can't exactly slide on down the banister," Jayne muttered. "Whole ballroom's full of Reavers."

"Can maybe make a decent stand from the second floor balcony." Zoe rolled her shoulders. "Let's move."

---

Gideon swiped a hand over his temple, mopping away the sheen of sweat slicking the skin. He was distracted, his thoughts spiraling off on any number of strange tangents.

The orange flavor of his mother's hair, and how it tickled his nose when she kissed him goodnight. The feel of his father's pocket watch, worn-smooth and heavy in his hand, and how the tick, tick, tick lulled him to sleep. Zoe, her dark eyes wide and unfathomable, watching him make love to her.

"Shoot anyone who leaves the ballroom."

"Yes, Commander Gideon."

Hunting with River had been...powerful. There was no rage in her--no desire for revenge or retribution. In another 'verse, she'd be a healer like her brother. Or an artist who shepherded in new waves of beauty. But fate made her a killer. In a sense, it was her very purity that drew him. Her hands were so gloriously unsullied, and he thought he could keep the blood from seeping under her fingernails, from staining the white.

He wanted to protect her from the darkness, but in the end it was she who tried to protect him. A part of him wished to be like her, and in his more hopeful moments he hoped to find solace--serenity?--between her smooth, untouched thighs. She took him to bed to stop his torment, but the torment raged on. He wasn't pure and good--an innocent made to take up arms. He belonged to another class—men and women like Mal, and like Zoe.

Soldiers. Murderers.

--You think we're the same?

--Aren't we, Mal?

--Uh, no. One key difference betwixt me and you, Gideon. I'm a man. And you're just a sniveling child.

--You're weak, Mal. That's why you're sitting in a cell somewhere, while I'm out here fighting a war. Your war, Mal.

--Uh-uh. This stopped bein' my war a long while ago, son. And murder surely ain't a cause. You ain't some patriot. Fact of it is, you're just a boy--

--Shut up, Mal.

--A boy who's been duped by men craftier. You're a pawn to Kane. When he's through with you, he'll throw you away, just like he did Cameron.

--You're wrong, Mal. Amos, he cares—

--Men like Kane care about one thing and one thing only, son. Victory. He's a fanatic, and he'll trample over any and every to get what he wants.

--You're lying.

--And you're crazy! How long you been residin' just that side of sane? Huh? Zoe said Reavers ate your parents, made you watch. That's a raw deal, no question. Still, ain't exactly an excuse for you goin' all batty, now, is it? If'n I'd known how nutty you were back when you was on my boat, I woulda beat some sense into you my own self. Woulda taken my gorramn belt to your sorry--

"Shut up!"

"Commander Gideon?"

Mal was weak, and Zoe was weak for following. Weakness prompted their failure in the Valley, made them waver at the museum.

Gideon wasn't weak.

"I'm fine, Ryans."

Adrenaline flooded his veins, quickening his limbs and infusing all his senses with a beautiful clarity.

"We spy a party of Imperials headed for the docking platforms. No confirmation on whether Chou's with them."

"Then let's move."

Skinwalker should have landlocked every ship in the hanger; still, Gideon wasn't one for taking unnecessary risks. If there was even the slightest possibility of the emperor escaping in an unregistered craft…or employing some special override code of which Kane's people were unaware…no, best to locate Chou immediately. He just wasn't expecting to find the Imperial Guardsmen so quickly, or so abruptly.

Gideon's pointman turned the corner and walked belly first into a Guardsman's extended dao. The blade pierced the ballistic weave, lancing flesh and a few vital organs before emerging again just left of the poor fellow's spine. Though taken by surprise, his team was ready.

"Nail the primary, sir!" his second shouted. "We'll handle the red-shirts."

His people were skilled--Kane had seen to that. Still, the Imperial Guardsmen were some of the deadliest fighters in the 'verse. Outside the Academy, of course, a distinction Gideon made blatant when he dove between two Guardsmen, dodging their blades and bullets. Sweeping one blade wide of his body, Gideon whirled and positioned his pistol under the jaw of the second Guardsmen before firing.

"I got visual on Chou, sir!"

From the corner of his eye, Gideon glimpsed the Sihonese emperor, outfitted in Imperial yellow. A Guardsmen was attempting to hustle Chou and two others out a doorway. Gideon smashed the butt of his pistol down on the hand of the man with whom he was grappling. Releasing the Guardsman, he snatched the falling sword from midair. He spun on his heel, decapitated the sword's owner with a smooth arc and flung the ultra-sharp blade at the Emperor's heart.

He intended for the blade to puncture Chou's heart. Instead, Gideon watched, helpless, as some lucky fool chose that moment to slam the door. Even a second later, and the sword would be lodged in the emperor's chest as opposed to the door where it currently resided.

For a brief moment, Gideon felt a pang of what it must be like for Mal, whose carefully-wrought plans frequently fell apart at a whim of fate.

Kicking down the offending door, Gideon swept the room with his pistol extended. He found three people—Chou, the last Guardsmen, who'd be dead from blood loss in seconds, and a woman…Inara?

If the whore was here, then surely Mal couldn't be far. Battle-heightened senses discerned the rasp of shoe-leather against hardwood flooring, the rustle of dress clothes on a body not accustomed to such finery. He snapped his head around, catching a flash of color. The color resolved itself into a fist, framed by Malcom Reynolds' face.

"Hey, there."

The fist connected with his jaw—bastard had hit him with a closed fist.

"Miss me?"

---

Malcom Reynolds was hardly a pacifist. Still, beating on some folk was infinitely more satisfying than others. Bruising Gideon's pale face was a special kinda pleasure.

"Oh, I'm so gonna kill you. Then I might just have Simon revive you so I can kill you again for fun. Bound to be more creative on the second pass."

Mal managed few more choice hits before Gideon's boot flew off his foot, winged its way around the room and came back to clock him in the head. That had to be it—only logical explanation for how a man standing in front of him could kick him in the back of the head.

He collapsed to his knees, trying not to heave the contents of his stomach all over his very fine suit.

"Fitting, Mal." Gideon was smirking. "You there, on your hand and knees. And here's me, standing over you about to--"

Mal grabbed hold of the Persian rug on which Gideon was planted and yanked.

"--fall on your ass?" he finished, as Gideon landed with a thump and a hiss of pain. Had the circumstances been somewhat other, Mal might have winced. As things stood, he wasn't feeling especially sympathetic.

Both men scrambled for breathing room. Gideon came up with a fighting knife in one hand. Mal snatched a spear off a rack on the wall.

"Wait!" Chou shouted.

Mal thrust with the spear. Gideon reversed his grip, laying the blade along his forearm and swept his live hand in a tight arc to intercept Mal's attack. Neither was expecting the spear to shatter against the knife blade.

For a moment, both men simply stared.

"Huh," Mal said, thoughtful.

"I tried to warn you." Chou looked sheepish. "It's just a replica. Balsa wood."

"Thanks for the warning," Mal said dryly. "Nara, get him out o' here. Junior and me got a full dance card."

To his supreme relief, Inara obeyed without fuss, pulling the Emperor into the next room.

Gideon took two steps after Chou when an object whizzed past his nose and shattered against the far wall. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned to find Mal standing next to a curio cabinet, full of hand-painted plates. He was hurling them at Gideon like Frisbees.

"Ow," Gideon expressed, teeth ground, as a dinner plate connected with the side of his head. He raised a hand to his hair, and his fingers came away wet. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, wiping the blood off on his pants.

Mal was fast running out of ammo. Seeing as teacups didn't fly near so well, Mal grabbed up a letter opener from the desk and charged.

Gideon shifted out of Mal's path, slashing with his knife as he sidestepped. Mal swept his arm up, a move that enabled him to block Gideon's blow and grab hold of the boy. Unable to pull free, Gideon found himself walking right into a stomach punch. He used the opportunity to drive the pommel of his knife into Mal's ribs, cracking a couple in the process.

"This isn't personal, Mal."

"Glad...to hear it."

He had to hold Mal up as the older man gasped for breath.

"Sucker," Mal taunted. He stepped in close and drove his knee toward Gideon's crotch.

Gideon twisted his body so Mal's knee bumped harmlessly over his hip, then kicked the off-balance captain's other leg out from under him.

"Please, Mal. You taught Zoe that trick, as I recall. And she was thoughtful enough to show me. Hell, Mal, I'd wager you taught the woman everything you know. And she and I...well, we were close."

Mal drew himself up on one knee.

"See there you go again, making wild-ass guesses."

He exploded from the crouch into an uppercut. Gideon's face lost all humor as Mal drove his fist up into the boy's groin.

"Seems there's a few things I kept to myself," Mal remarked as Gideon crumpled to the floor. "You lived on my ship. Slept in a bed I gave you and ate from my table. You laid hands on those I consider family." His voice lowered to a deathly quiet. "I'm thinkin' it's pretty damn personal."

Gideon was wheezing for breath.

"You...betrayed our cause!"

It took him a good few seconds to get the words out, and when they came they were a good bit higher than usual.

Mal shook his head slowly.

"No, kid." He crouched beside him, his tone oddly thoughtful. "Murder ain't a cause."

Why'd that sound so familiar? Gideon wondered.

"You oughta be made to see the horrors no doubt takin' place in that ballroom nowabouts. People bein' killed and...suffering fates far worse than killin'. Innocents! If there was a God, He'd make you look it right in the face!"

As if on cue, a trio of Reavers burst into the room.

"Oh, hey, that ain't even funny!"

---

On the other side of the door, Inara watched Emperor Chou remove an ancient revolver from a glass-windowed wall case.

He fiddled with the weapon, and she frowned. The piece appeared older than the Lassiter, and she could recall how well -that- worked. Chou seemed to take note of her anxiety.

"I assure you, my dear; this one is -not- a replica."

Beyond, the sounds of a battle raged, muffled though not quite silenced by the heavy oaken door.

"Give me the gun, Your Highness." Without waiting for an answer, Inara lifted the revolver up out of his hands, along with the handful of rounds.

"Miss Serra, I know Captain Reynolds offered me his protection, but..."

The emperor trailed off as Inara quickly and efficiently swung open the cylinder. She cycled the extractor, sliding the rounds into the five holes.

"I understand Companions are well-schooled in many arts…but skill-at-arms?"

"That wasn't the Guild." Giving the cylinder a spin, she swung it back into position with a flick of her wrist. "That was Mal."

The emperor opened his mouth to speak, and she silenced him with a glance. Pressing her ear to the door, she could almost make out the words. Dear Buddha, they were going to kill each other. They'd drag it out with a stream of insults, masculine bravado. But in the end one of them would lie dead, and Mal—despite his resourcefulness, his knack for smashing the emperor's antiquities and his mastery of the witty comeback—was essentially unarmed. She curled her hand around the doorknob, wondering if this would be the last time she disobeyed one of his orders. She was still smiling when the screaming started.

The sounds she heard didn't come from Mal or Gideon. She wasn't certain any normal, human male could emit such a sound. They were wails, high-pitched utterances of pleasure and pain, so mingled together she couldn't separate one from the other. They were hunting cries, shrieks for blood and meat and lust. When the time came, when it got its hands on her, the desires would be unified in its head. It would seek to fulfill all its desires on her still breathing body.

Almost choking on her fear, Inara forced the image from her head. She glanced down at the weapon, cool and heavy in the palm of her hand. The name—Smith and Wesson .500 Magnum—didn't mean much to her, but any idiot could see it was a powerful handgun.

The door splintered under the intruder's assault, and Inara gasped and jumped back. The gun barrel naturally aligned itself with the Reaver's chest, her hands sliding into proper positioning. The trigger was heavier than that of her small gun—the one Mal made a gift of all those months back. Lifting her little pistol required less force than pulling the trigger on this antique. Still, imminent cannibalism was a powerful incentive. She felt the snap as the trigger released the spring and drove the hammer down upon the firing pin. She held her breath and waited for the bang.

---

Mal and Gideon exchanged brief, telling glances before propelling themselves out of the savages' paths. Behind the desk, Mal grappled for a weapon, felt his fingers close over a heavy, glass ashtray.

"Heads up, kid," he called, raising his arm to pitch the weapon.

But Gideon seemed to have relocated his knife. Not bad for a guy who just took a sucker punch to the--

"Ow." Mal blinked, half cross-eyed from the Reaver's hit.

"I'm realizing something, Mal." Gideon slashed at his Reaver with the blade, while Mal, having regained his equilibrium, began bashing at his own with a desk chair.

"Oh, yeah?" He crashed the chair down again, sucking in air as the she-Reaver's sword slashed his forearm. "What's that?"

It took Gideon a few seconds to answer,

"God...doesn't much like you, Mal."

Mal hissed as claw-like fingernails raked his face.

"You don't say."

With his elbow, Mal caught the wild-eyed female in the face. He was pretty sure the blow cracked her nose, though the pain didn't seem to halt her. If anything it made her all manner of steamed.

"No, really," he assured, ducking a punch. "Nose like yours--no one'll even notice!"

He struck out again, and she caught his hand in hers.

"Oh, that ain't good."

Teeth sunk into his wrist, and he let out a yell. He threw a punch with his left, and she was dislodged, if only temporarily. Mal planted his boot on the Reaver's chest and shoved. She grabbed onto his ankle, trying to take him down with her.

"Great plan you got going here, Junior."

Gideon dropped back to a ready stance after a vicious rake-heel kick that snapped the Reaver's head sideways. From the sound of it, he'd cracked its jaw.

"Everything was going just fine till you dropped in to hump it all up."

"Hey, I was here first!"

Mal found himself on the defensive again, his enemy up and swinging. This time it was shards of glass.

"Watch it, lady!" A particularly well-aimed slice tore open his shirtsleeve. "Hey! This shirt cost me ten platinum!" Mal grabbed the remains of an overstuffed chair and used the seatback as a shield. "Gorramn Reavers, cutting on a man's clothes. I'm sending you the bill for this, Gideon! Hear me?"

"I'll make sure they bury you in something nice," Gideon assured before turning his attention back to his own Reaver.

Tired of Gideon's long-range sniping, the Reaver opted instead to charge, battering Gideon's body with endless, looping blows. Instinctively, Gideon curled to shield his face and head from the assault. Unfortunately, his positioning left him open to a number of punishing body shots. Metal-studded gloves tore at the flesh of his arms. He never saw the kick coming—a robust roundhouse that buckled his knee and collapsed him to the ground. The snap was his first signal that something was seriously amiss. The wicked pain served to confirm his suspicion.

-Niou fen.-

"What's a matter?" Mal fairly groaned the words. "Not havin' fun over there?"

"Go hump yourself, Mal."

"Might not…be so far off."

Gideon turned to see the female attempting to strip Mal of pesky barriers like his clothes and skin.

A fist in the face focused his attention on the matter at hand, namely the Reaver attempting to eat him alive. Gideon waited for the next punch to come, and when it did he speared the man's wrist with his knife, dipping the blade between the long bones of his forearm.

With a vicious heave, he splayed the knife along the Reaver's forearm, bisecting flesh the entire way. With the knife still engaged in the Reaver's arm, Gideon drew his spare and slashed upwards along the man's thigh, opening his femoral artery. Ignoring the shower of blood, he pulled both blades free from his victim. Blinking to clear his vision, he reversed both knives and, gripping the blades downward, slid them through the Reaver's ribcage like it was warm butter. He used the knives like handles to pull himself to his feet. The falling body took one of his blades with it on the way down.

---

The gun didn't go off.

For a second, she stood transfixed. Then the Reaver let loose a hiss, and Inara snapped back from her reverie. Despite Mal's rather snide remarks, her heeled sandals were beautifully crafted. Dancing shoes, really. Her pirouette spun her dress into the air and brought her out of the Reaver's line of advance, if only temporarily. She utilized the time to reverse her grip, wrapping her hands around the pistol's long barrel and shouting for the emperor to get back.

The Reaver had the same idea and brought his own improvised club up to strike. Her trigger guard snagged a hook on his club, and both weapons went flying when their owners attempted to pull free. Inara fell back a step and adopted a fighting stance. The Reaver frowned, as though he was unused to unarmed food that fought back.

It's hesitance gave her a glimmer of hope. Her body seemed to remember her martial arts lessons of long ago. The Reaver charged, and she punched. Her instructors would have been proud. Never mind the teachers, Mal—Mal would have been over the twin moons. The line from her knuckles to her elbow was dead straight, and the Reaver's nose just crumbled under her fist. She even remembered to keep her guard up.

It was a beautiful hit, and had she been battling men, it might have rendered the desired effect. But Reavers weren't men but what came after—or before; Inara wasn't certain—and the mutilated thing just leaned into the blow, his counter punch brandishing a claw.

The Reaver slashed along her left forearm with an improvised meat hook, tearing a bloody gash into the flesh. She whimpered in pain—shouldn't she be uttering something witty about now? She'd seen Mal sliced or stabbed time enough—wasn't that the protocol? She'd try if it lessened the pain. Merciful Buddha, she was hurting. She glanced at the bloody mess of her arm and wished she hadn't. The Reaver advanced upon her, seemingly unfazed by the damage done to his face. Cradling her injured arm, she backed away.

With only one hand functioning, she knew it wouldn't be long.

-I'm sorry, Mal. I love you. Tell me you believed that.-

It wouldn't be long before she missed and the Reaver killed her. If he killed her. Likely, he wouldn't—not right away.

-Everything that I am is in love with you. And I wish I'd said it more. I would have helped you raise your babies. I would have loved them, Mal.- Everything seemed so simple now—why had they wasted so much time fighting? But the fighting was fun, too. She almost smiled now, remembering the sniping and the brawling, the lovemaking that often followed.

The first punch she missed was a wild blow to the head that left her dizzy, nauseous. That vertigo saved her life because she stumbled, and the meat hook just grazed her cheek. Her right arm and shoulder were covered with dozens of tiny cuts from the bits of metal embedded in the Reaver's clothing.

-Oh, Mal. I'm sorry you have to see me this way.- She wanted to save him that particular memory. Maybe she was vain, but she didn't want him to remember her this way--beaten and bloodied. Violated. In his dreams, she wished to remain beautiful, the way he'd always seen her.

Intercepting a slash with the hook left her open to a savage stomach punch. She fell to her knees, unable to draw breath. For several, terrifying seconds all she could do was focus on her breathing. Rapid blinking cleared the tears from her eyes in time to see the Reaver's hand come down to wrap around her throat. His other hand raised the hook.

---

Wrenching his knife free of the Reaver's torso, Gideon glanced across the room, saw Mal still grappling with his own bloodthirsty little playmate. The redhead knocked Mal's shield away with a kick.

"You, Mal, are pathetic."

"Bi zui or help." It came out like a growl.

Mal reached into the broken display case for the biggest, heaviest thing he could find and came out with a large yellow book. Taking it in both hands he clocked the Reaver hard across the face, first one way, then the other, before she stumbled back. He took a moment to glance back at the display case with its label: Vintage 2006 New York/New Jersey Bell Telephone Directory. Hermetically sealed and preserved since 2010. What, he wondered, was a telephone?

Mal only looked away for a second, but that was all the time the Reaver needed to tackle him to the ground. Mal concentrated his efforts on keeping her mouth away from his throat. He wasn't entirely certain if she'd loose her lips or her teeth on the sensitive flesh, but was reasonably sure he didn't wanna find out. He felt one of her hands yank at his belt buckle, and let out a groan.

"You know, I do got a girlfriend..."

The she-Reaver didn't seem all that dissuaded.

Limping across the room took far longer than it should have. Reaching out with one hand, Gideon grabbed a fist full of the Reaver's hair, and yanked backward. In a smooth, fluid motion, he slit her throat and tossed her remains to the floor.

Mal nodded his head by way of thanks and accepted Gideon's outstretched hand.

"Did I mention I hate redheads?"

---

She tried to summon Mal's visage. If she was to die here, she wanted it to be with his image stamped over her corneas. Mal's eyes, soft and languid as she kissed him. Mal's mouth, curving into that all-too-familiar smirk as she strapped on her shoes outside the palace gates. Shoes. Shoes! Reaching down, she wiggled the sandal from her foot, grasped it by the toe and swung with the last of her strength.

The carbon-fiber reinforced heel embedded itself clean in the Reaver's knee. This time he definitely noticed, as evidenced by his scream of protest. Releasing Inara, he fell to floor, attempting to pull the stiletto free of his ligaments. Inara grabbed her other shoe and rose up on the balls of her bare feet. She wound up and swung, aiming her blow at the base of the Reaver's skull. All three inches of her heel buried themselves at the union of the Reaver's neck and skull, tearing through his brain stem. He fell, quite literally a puppet with the strings cut away.

Inara turned to glare at the Emperor.

"Haven't you any weapons that work?"

Before he could formulate a response, Mal burst through the door. His eyes raked over Inara and then Chou before surveying the carnage on the carpet.

"Huh. Nice shoes," he quipped, throat thick.

Then he dragged her into his arms.

---

The spray of bullets provided a constant backdrop. An unceasing pounding—like rain on metal rooftops. You could go mad from the sound alone, Simon thought. And the Reavers—Dear God, they never stopped screaming.

Closer, he could hear the whimpers, too, and the sickening sound of metal as it whistled through the air, sliced against silk suits and satin gowns before embedding in their owners' flesh. He could hear it all now. In a way, hearing was worse than seeing. He wanted to turn the sound down, let the events play out like an old, silent feature with only an orchestra for accompaniment. Except the musicians had long since abandoned their instruments.

"Simon?" Beside him, Kaylee wrapped her fingers around his upper arm, applied a gentle squeeze to the bicep. "You okay, sweetie?"

"Yes." He bent his head to kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry."

"Whatcha sorry for, Simon?"

"I was just thinking—I never, ever take you anyplace nice."

"Aw, honey. This place is nice, just...not tonight."

"Still. If we live...I owe you a night out."

"Or...could just have sex," Kaylee offered.

"I'd go with option two," River advised.

"I know I'm goin' with option two," Jayne added with a grin.

"I really didn't need to hear that," Simon groaned.

"Bi zui," Zoe said sharply. "Focus. Anyone have visual on the girl and the mother?"

"Wait!" River grabbed Zoe's arm to halt her. She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted, "Guardsmen! Friendlies on your 3 o'clock!"

Several of the Guardsmen took aim at their position, before one of them shouted back: "Kilo, Lima, Whiskey, Oscar!"

"Golf, Hotel, Echo, Inda!" River replied.

She turned to Zoe and Jayne, who were staring.

"Now they won't shoot us. At least not on purpose."

"Don't seem right," Kaylee whispered. "Rescuin' the Imperials and leavin' the rest o' these poor people to die."

River shook her head.

"We aren't gonna leave them, Kaylee."

---

Mal settled Inara's limp form on the guest bed, brushing a soft kiss over her forehead.

"You jus' sleep now, beautiful."

Satisfied that Chou would watch over her, he whirled.

"Gideon."

"She okay?"

"She ain't your concern. You gotta stop this, kid."

Gideon gave a short, sad laugh.

"Can't do that, Mal."

The captain raised a brow and took a menacing step forward. He didn't wanna beat on the boy anymore...or get beat on as the case may be.

"I ain't askin'."

Gideon rose, face contorting. Mal knew it must be an effort for the kid not to cry out in pain with his knee ripped half to hell.

"Not won't, Mal. Can't." Another hollow laugh. "I think I'm done disobeying your orders."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, they won't stop. Kane said there was no calling off this one, no matter what. Hell, Mal. They're Reavers. What do you want me to do--hit their off switch?"

"I want you to call off your men! Get 'em to release the landlocks on the Imperial fleet, maybehaps then we start evac-ing the women and--"

"Off switch."

Mal paused, mid-rant.

"What?"

Dr. Meyers. Ana with hair like Zoe's only not. What had she told him?

-I've been working with them going on two years. They're trained to obey voice commands...-

Voice commands. Dear God, he was losing his mind. No one could control these monsters. Trying was foolish, madness. He felt like River suddenly, acutely conscious of his descent into lunacy. River. He was meant to protect her, teach her. He promised Zoe as much.

-If you let us take her, I promise I'll do everything in my power to keep her safe.-

He broke his promise. River was downstairs in that hell.

"Gideon?" Then, more softly. "You here, kid?"

"Shuh muh?"

"I'm going after the others, Gideon. Need you to stay and look to Inara." Mal met the younger man's gaze. "I'm trusting you to keep her safe."

"No."

"No?"

"You're staying here, Mal."

"Gideon...not really of a mind to argue just now."

"Take care of your kids, Mal. They're innocents, and...just take care of them."

"Gideon--"

Mal took a step toward the door, and Gideon gripped the pommel of his knife. Without a word, he brought it down on Mal's head.

Gideon caught the captain's body before it slumped to the floor.

"Captain Reynolds is going to have one hell of a headache," he informed the dumbstruck emperor. He laid Mal's body out beside Inara. "See if you can find him some aspirin."

---

A Guardsmen looking much the worse for wear ascended the last few steps. Appraising the group assembled on the landing, he settled weary eyes on Jayne. Gingerly, he transferred his teenage bundle into the larger man's arms.

"Guard the princess with your life."

"Where the rut are you going?" Jayne demanded.

"The princess is safe." The Guardsmen drew his sword. "There are others who aren't."

Zoe scrutinized the girl who lay unmoving in Jayne's arms. Working with the remaining Guardsmen, they'd finally managed to extract her from the massacre that was the ballroom. With effort, her small chest heaved up and down, eyes flickering open in confusion.

"No! Stop…."

"You're okay," Zoe soothed. "We're gonna get you help, Little One. Simon!"

"Right here."

"Girl's wounded, Doctor." Zoe motioned at Jayne, and he transferred the girl to Simon's arms. "Let's get you and Kaylee someplace more calm-like to treat her."

"Alright. River, be careful." Simon met his sister's gaze. "All of you, be careful."

"Wait," the girl whispered. She'd stopped struggling, apparently deciding she was safer here with strangers than she'd been in the ballroom. "My mother. Where is she?"

Zoe and Jayne exchanged glances.

"Oh, hell." Jayne coughed. "Think they got her out before you."

---

Kaylee squeezed the girl's hand while Simon treated her wounds.

Poor little thing. Her mother was dead, and her daddy--well, god willing the cap'n was keeping him safe. So many lives were riding on the emperor keepin' his.

She handed Simon what supplies he asked for and, in between serving as nurse, tried to distract the girl. Sweetheart looked well-and-truly frightened from out her wits. Not that Kaylee much blamed her. Didn't get any easier, seein' those monsters more 'n once.

"This is a real pretty dress," Kaylee told the girl. She stroked a hand along the ruined purple fabric. "What's your name, honey?"

"I—Amina."

Disinfectant seeped into her open wound, and the girl let out a gasp.

"I know it hurts, Amina." Simon's voice was soft and full of sympathy. "But we have to clean the wound. Dong ma? Just…try to stay still for me."

Kaylee stroked Amina's hair. She knew why Simon was so worried 'bout sterilizing. Cuts on her leg weren't just ordinary abrasions. They were bite marks.

"You're doin' real good, honey. Ain't she, Dr. Tam?"

"Yes." Simon smiled at them both. "Very good. And I'm almost done."

"Who…are they?" Amina managed.

"Who's who, honey?"

The princess rose up on her elbows, trying to get a better look at her leg.

"The ones that got inside. I saw them kill people. Kill people and…hurt them." She bit her lip to cover a whimper. "Inside my head, it's all screaming."

"They're called Reavers, sweetheart." Across the bed, Kaylee met Simon's eyes. "They ain't right in the head no more on account of experiments done to 'em."

Amina shuddered.

"They're monsters."

Simon applied a gentle pressure to her shoulders, easing her down on the bed.

"Just rest now."

---

"Uh, guys?"

Jayne lifted a hand and pointed.

Beyond the windows were two dozen Feds decked out in riot gear.

"Why don't they come in?" Jayne demanded. "What the rut they waiting for?"

"The force-field-weapon-scanner thingamajig." Zoe looked beyond his fingers. "Ain't lettin' 'em through."

Jayne fairly growled.

"Kane's people musta done it--locked down the security system."

"Gotta get to the panel," River murmured. "Reset the codes."

"Won't work, honey. You don't know the reset sequence."

River made a face. When Zoe just raised a brow, she smiled.

"Call me intuitive."

Zoe smirked but shook her head.

"No way anyone's gettin' to that panel alive."

Jayne squinted out into the crowd.

"Guardsmen?"

"They're dead," River murmured. "Last one fell three minutes ago."

Zoe stared straight ahead.

"Just keep tryin' to take down the ones you can."

River frowned. She didn't like guns. She didn't like the feel of the metal, cold on her palm, or the taste that lingered on her tongue after using one. It was too easy. She had only to curl a finger, and the next instant a life was seeping out all over the floor. Rivers of blood, trickling and trailing. Gushing like the mightiest—

"River." Jayne cocked his head, jerked his neck in the direction of the ballroom. "We need you shooting, girl."

"Captain Daddy said 'no touching guns.' "

"Well, the Captain ain't here, River." Zoe met her gaze. "And I'm sayin' start touching guns."

She lifted the rifle and fired, shot bullets and pain into animals that shrieked and startled but didn't stop. She shot again and again, shot until they fell. She shot predators and, when it couldn't be helped, she shot their prey, too. But all were victims, and all were prey, and suddenly she couldn't tell one from the other, and she let fall the rifle and covered her ears with her hands and dropped to her heels and rocked.

With her eyes squeezed shut, she could still see Zoe's forehead crinkle in concern.

"Jayne!" Zoe shouted.

"Huh? Ai ya, what you doin', girl?" He squatted beside her and grabbed her shoulders and shook. "Get the rut up!"

She did. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the chaos until all that was left was clarity.

"Too much pain. It's too much!" She fisted her hands in his hair and tugged him down till their mouths were level. She kissed his warm Jayne lips and smelled his strong Jayne smell, and she tasted him, and he tasted like Jayne. "I'm sorry," she whispered against his throat. "Tell Simon."

She took two steps and leapt over the rail.

"River! Get back here!" Zoe shouted.

Jayne didn't say anything at all. He just watched her fall. Her new dress--one Inara picked--floated around her legs like one of Kaylee's pretty parasols. He watched her sink to the ground--a breath of cleansing blue in a sea of red.

---

Gideon burst out onto the landing in time to see River descend into the throng.

"River, no!"

Jayne grasped him by the shirtfront, shoved him up against the rail.

"What the hell's he doin' here?"

"Pummel me later, Jayne." Gideon tried to shake free. "Just give me a weapon, she needs cover."

"I oughta--"

"Jayne." Zoe shook her head. "Give him a gun."

"He might be dead later," Jayne grumbled, but he handed Gideon River's discarded rifle.

Zoe felt a shudder run through her body, waited till it passed before aiming her assault rifle again. Trying to target the Reavers in the sea of bodies was bad enough. But now River was down there, too. River, who was just a girl, and wanted to be a girl, but already was a woman in more ways than one.

She was fighting with swords--girl never did like guns. Weapons of grace. They gave up a lot to prove to the 'verse that River was more than a weapon.

"What's she doin', Zoe? Why'd she go and do somethin' so ruttin' dumb?"

"Just stay on the line, Jayne. She's gonna need--"

Cover. She didn't have to say it. Man never once lowered his gun.

At first, Reavers seemed not to realize River was there. But after a time, they took note, noticed the slip of a girl dancing across the floor of the Ballroom, leaving a trail of severed heads and sliced-out spines in her wake. Reavers mightn't have been the sanest of folk. Didn't mean they were stupid. When one hunter took out half a pack, the other half was like to raise hell.

Zoe tried to keep River in sight. Trouble was she moved like a spirit—as though the laws of matter and physics didn't quite apply in her case. She musta took down fifteen Reavers in the space of seconds, some of 'em engaged in acts too hideous to name. War was full of atrocities, plenty with names and faces. Early on, Mal tried to shield her from them. If they came upon something awful—something he saw no sense in her witnessing—he'd push her face away.

"Eyes forward, Zoe."

At some point, he got it in his head she might as well see. He figured he couldn't protect her in the long haul, and by trying, he was making it worse. He was right to stop trying. Still…if someone had a notion to push her face away now...

But the captain didn't stand by her side today, hold her hand. He wasn't there to block them all from the worst of the ugliness. Point of fact, there wasn't a single soul to shade her eyes from this view. So she prayed to Book's god and Inara's. For the hell of it, she prayed to the one Mal forsook. She prayed not to remember any of this when next she held her baby girl in her arms. If there was a God, then Godwilling he'd let her forget.

River was close now. Six Reavers between her and the panel. Five Reavers. Now two.

An oddly gruesome ballet of one. As a little girl, Zoe attended a ballet with her mother once. She'd kiss Jayne's boots before admitting it, but the prettiness of the dance appealed to her. She liked the girls with their pale tights and pinned hair and delicate faces. She liked watching their bodies move and stretch.

It was one of her best memories--maybe the last really vivid one. People lived and breathed freedom on the world where Zoe was from--a quality the Alliance didn't take kindly to. When times got bad, Zoe's mama called her brother and sister-in-law. Pirates. They took her away in a big, ugly spaceship against her protests. Three weeks later, the carpet bombers came. Zoe never did see her mama again.

Zoe had seen a lot of fights in her time. Heck, she'd been a willing participant in most. But this--River fighting. Damn if it didn't call to mind that pretty ballet.

She danced as though all the steps were familiar ones, the choreography a practiced routine she'd staged a thousand times over. Parry, thrust, sidestep.

She was at the panel now. She fought with her left hand, her right working furiously over the numbers.

"You can do this, River." Zoe wasn't aware she'd spoken the words aloud until she felt the heat of Jayne's gaze. "If anyone can do it, it's you. Come on, honey. River, come on--"

The forcefield dissolved and two dozen heavily-armed Federals stormed the Ballroom, stunner rifles... doing whatever it was they did on autofire. Reavers dropped left and right, as did the guests. Feds weren't particular--they'd sort out who was who later. A couple Reavers actually made it past the stunner blasts, tried jumping the officers Beside her, Jayne snickered, as a Reaver tried gnawing through poly-carb armor and got a shock-rod upside the head for its efforts.

Smiling, Zoe returned her gaze to River. She fought her way through the crowd--a fierce, flawless beauty with her hair streaming, her legs fairly flying across the dance floor. Girl really was a sight to behold. She was almost at the stairs when she missed a step--one, trifling flaw in an otherwise perfect performance.

-River, behind you!- By the time her lungs gave breath to the words, River was dead.

At least her brother didn't see. It was a bit of mercy that Simon didn't see them break his sister's neck. That thought was the first to penetrate the haze occupying Zoe's brain.

The second was the lack of pause. River was dead—gone away for good, gone over to a place where she'd never laugh again or play, or tease the captain till he blushed. River was nineteen years old, and she was dead. And hardly anyone noticed.

All around her, the battle raged. Voices cried out into the din—noisy, inarticulate. A swarm of Alliance federals cut through the throng, weaving between Reavers and ball guests. Everywhere Zoe looked she saw blood and gore and the season's finest fashions.

She wondered if this was hell.

Zoe's third coherent thought was: Jayne.

---

He couldn't get to her. All that mattered now was getting her out, and he couldn't reach her. Were too many between her and him. Gideon was closer. Course Gideon was standing with his thumb up his ass.

"Gideon!"

Nearly ten seconds lost waiting on the boy to look up. Ten seconds they had their filthy, foul hands on her.

"Gideon! You listen to me, boy! You gotta take her outta there."

"She's gone, Jayne." His tone held a tremor of disbelief, as if he didn't believe for his own self what he was trying to convince Jayne to be true.

"I won't see her ate!" Jayne shouted, and was struck by how true that was. If they touched her—hurt her more than they had already—he'd go bibbledy with the watching. Wouldn't be enough of his brain left after that to scoop off the dance floor. He'd be mad as the gorramn Reavers.

His words seemed to jar some sense into the boy. Gideon leaped over bodies of Reavers and ball guests, hacking a path with his knife. One of the Reavers held her limp form over his head like a trophy. Gideon gutted him, and when his friend mewled in protest, Gideon cut out his throat.

"River."

She fell into his arms, and Gideon was struck by how warm she was still. The porcelain of her cheeks was still stained red with the flush of battle, and he could feel the heat of her flesh under his hands. With one arm, he supported her prone form, the other combing back the soft, damp tendrils from her forehead. He took her hand in his and squeezed tight to familiar fingers—fingers that had stroked his restless body and soothed his damaged soul. She tried to make him family. It wasn't her fault she'd failed.

He knew she was gone, but it wasn't too late to save her. He'd protect her from harm, just as his parents protected him once. A part of him had died when his father hid him away in that trunk, but a part had lived on, become something other. In that instant, everything was clear and simple and serene. He could still make this right.

He took a single step before he felt the lash of the sword.

He ran, stumbling, for the staircase, shielding River's body with his own. With the last of his strength, he hoisted her small form up over the railing, pressed her into Jayne's waiting arms. The Reavers fell upon him like locusts. Four of them dragged him back into the throng.

"I got her!" Jayne shouted. "I got her, kid." He backed away, River's body cradled to his chest like a child's.

Gideon was descending into nightmare. They surrounded him, gnashing and clawing. He dodged a blow to the nose, took another in the mouth. He felt his lip split under the metal hooks that lined their fingers.

Blood—his own—flowed in warm, steady rivers down his back. Too much blood, he thought objectively. He pictured Simon, the young doctor's face twisted in frown. -Really, Gideon. Bleeding that much is unwise.- Gideon let out a chuckle, then sobered, imagining how Kaylee would scold him. -Joking at a time like this?- What did it matter if he jested? He was dying. Christ, he didn't want to go out like this. Mal? No, Mal couldn't help anymore. River called him Captain Daddy. But Mal wasn't father to Gideon. Gideon tried to follow Mal and failed in the effort. -Dammit, Mal. We can't all be martyrs. We can't all be noble and self-sacrificing and given to magnanimous display.- Damn you, Mal. Damn you. He could see Mal's face in his head, Mal's eyes steady and unwavering.

--You did good, son. Hear me? You got her out. And that counts for somethin'.

His voice sounded so close. But Mal was upstairs with his lover, with Inara. Gideon didn't understand those two, or their absurdist, passion-filled love affair. But then he'd never been in love. Still, he was about to get his insides eaten out, and really, when it came right down to it, what was the difference? He didn't wanna die like this. He didn't want to die without having known--

Zoe.

He called her name.

Their eyes collided, and she hesitated. Then she slid her hand into her belt pouch.

"Gideon, catch."

Zoe pitched the grenade into his outstretched palm. She held his gaze for a pair of heartbeats—thud-thump, thud-thump—before the Reavers dragged him to the ground. They covered him like a coat, wiggling and groaning. Breathing, if he still was, must feel an effort. She inhaled and waited, counting each second as it passed.

Blow. Blow. Blow, blow, blow—

The grenade exploded, and the flames spurted up through the gaps between the bodies. A rush of hot smoke filled her nostrils, heat licking at her eyes and her tongue. She coughed and choked, and when she could breathe again, she blinked wildly, struggling to clear her vision.

Gideon was dead. And he'd taken four of the monsters out with him.

---

Upstairs, Jayne nudged open the door to the first room and kicked it closed behind him. He laid her out on the bed, letting go just long enough to manhandle a dresser to bar the entryway.

Almost reverent-like, he checked her over. They'd only landed a few blows before the fatal one. Rest of her was as unsullied and untouched as the day she showed up on Serenity. He wouldn't ever forget the day Mal found a naked girl in a box. Hardly more 'n a kid, even if she had women parts. Parts she let him touch later, alone in the dark when it was just them two.

"Soft," she whispered, and stroked his face.

"Jayne ain't soft," he growled back and nipped at her fingers.

Pearly white skin, translucent as eggshells. Oh, hell, he wanted her to touch him once more.

Her eyes were closed, just like she was asleep. Like she just drifted off in his bed, and she might any minute wake laughing. He knew she was dead, that she wouldn't wake up laughing or otherwise, but for a minute it didn't matter. He had her, and that meant those animals wouldn't get the chance to hurt her no more. She was safe now.

"You're safe now," he promised. "Ain't gonna let them hurt you no more. No one can hurt you."

He tangled one hand in her hair, the other leveling a gun at the doorway.

"Hear that, girl? Over my dead body do they lay a hand on yours."

---

He rocked her in his arms.

Girl was crazed. Batty.

He had plenty of time to think on things in the last hour. Some of the things weren't so nice, so he shifted his brain to other ones. He found himself musing on the last night and Mal's fei hua dinner party.

Girl was nuts alright. She knew gorramn well he hadn't any restraint when it came to him and her. Him and her. Never in Jayne's thirty-nine and three quarter years had he been half of a twosome. Been in a few threesomes, but that weren't the same. Him and her. Mother of a son of a--

"Jayne."

She'd made it ring like bells.

"What?"

Why, oh why did she have to do this in the hallway? In front of God and Mal...

"Kiss me."

He tore his lips from the spot they'd been sucking on her neck. He looked at her, incredulous.

"What's it look like I'm doin', girl?"

"It's not enough," she breathed.

"It ain't?" He wasn't insulted so much as puzzled. "Know I ain't skilled fancy, River. Still, never heard no complaints before."

"Jayne."

She caught his cheeks with both hands.

"Stop talking."

He nodded, glad to be done with that part. He kissed her with renewed effort, propelling them toward her bunk while she worked at his belt buckle.

"Lift me," she instructed, and he did, feeling those lithe, shapely thighs squeeze his ass like a vice.

Secretly, he liked holding her, carrying her about like a doll. Was somethin' sexy as hell about lifting the light, lethal package of her in his big arms. Sexy as hell. The doc would say it was ironical, as bedding her was like to get him there.

"Jayne!"

"Huh?"

She could always tell if his attention wavered. Course it was a rarity for it to stray to the likes of Simon...

"Tell me I'm pretty."

"You're pretty," he ground out, and ground himself against her belly.

"Again," she whimpered.

"You're pretty." It came out like a growl, but she didn't seem to mind. "Guay, girl. How many times I gotta tell you?"

"Been with a lotta girls."

"Guess I've been with my share." He cocked his head, considering. "More than, maybe."

"Prettier ones?"

Why in the nine hells was she askin' him that? Was it 'cuz of Mal's sister? Not like he wanted to run a'path of her. Just that it was a small ship, and people had to eat.

"Different pretty," he admitted, a little tentative, under River's watchful gaze.

River smiled.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"Truth."

He shrugged and kissed her nose, which made her giggle. Girl was crazed, alright. Downright batty.

Except maybe she wasn't so mad after all.

"Jayne! You in there, Jayne? Open the door."

Mal. Just then, he didn't have much use for Mal, or his yuh bun duh orders. He told him as much.

"Open the gorramn door, Jayne!" Then, more softly. "It's okay. You got her out, dong ma? It's okay now."

Slowly, almost reverently, Jayne laid River's body out on the bedspread. Then he got up to open the door.

---

Didn't make a lick of sense. One minute a person was breathin', rosy cheeks and blood pulsin'. One minute she was smilin' and laughin', and there was life in her. And the next—the next that life was gone. The rosy cheeks got pale, and the blood quit pulsin', and she didn't smile, and she didn't laugh. The parts of her that were sister and daughter and lover floated away, and all that was left was an engine that had long stopped turnin'.

Wasn't fair, Kaylee mused. Not nothin' fair about it.

"Simon?" she ventured. "Sweetie?"

She looked beautiful tonight. Did he tell her? He'd meant to say something, meant to tell her how nice she looked in her new dress: how tall and pretty and grown-up. One moment she was vibrant and…fierce, and the next—the next she was broken, splayed like a rag doll: a collapsed dancer who'd danced her last. It struck him then that she'd never grow up, that she'd forever be young and beautiful and tragic. People would always remember her death and not her life. How grossly unjust. Once, before she became a martyr, she was a girl. A playful, mischievous girl who read books and had games and told jokes. His beautiful, brainy little sister, laying down her life for the very people whose indifference condemned her to death. I'm sorry, River. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I couldn't stop you. And most of all, I'm sorry I can't forgive you. Because you shouldn't have gone, mei-mei. You shouldn't have let them hurt you so badly that I couldn't fix you. River. River, you really do look pretty tonight….

---

He wondered who it was bandaged her hurts. Whoever it was bathed the blood from her skin, too, dressed her up in something soft and silky and golden, combed her hair till it shone.

"Mal."

Inara. Of course she'd be the one to do it. Of course she'd volunteer to save Simon that task.

"Mal, they…" Her voice was hoarse. He wondered where she'd gone to cry. Someplace lonely where she could curl up--she never did like to cry in front of him.

"They want to see her, Mal."

He looked up, seeing her for the first time. She hadn't changed out of her ball gown. Funny, but from a certain angle you couldn't quite see the blood. It blended in with the red, though the illusion didn't make the stains any less real. Her arm was draped in bandages. He felt a prick of guilt for not looking to her injuries earlier, though he was too tired to feel the emotion in earnest. He was so awfully tired.

"Who all?" he asked softly. "Who wants to see her?"

"Emperor Chou, and and Micah and Amina. Some state officials….The high bishop of Londinium…and just, people, Mal. People from the city, the surrounding towns. She saved a great many lives tonight, and their families want to say thank you."

"They're forming a line in the hallway." Zoe slipped into the bedroom to stand at his side. "Sir, what should I—?"

"She's not a damn martyr!"

Inara flinched but was silent.

"This ain't about...Gods and...monsters! If there is a God, He surely ain't one for meddlin'. Religion's a lie, and humanity's ever on her lonesome. Except for sometimes…sometimes we get heroes, plain everyday folk who see this wretched world as fit for savin'." He stroked a hand over the girl's hair, smoothed her forehead with the pad of his thumb. "River Tam ain't a martyr. She's a hero, and people…people oughta know that."

"Yes." Inara laid her hand on his shoulder. "They should."

"Where's Simon?"

"Took off more 'n an hour ago," Zoe said softly. "Kaylee with him."

He glanced up sharply.

"Where'd they go?"

"Dunno where, sir. Or when they'll be back."

"And River?"

"He wants her laid to rest with Wash and the Shepherd. Already said his goodbyes."

"What about Jayne?" Mal asked after a pause.

"Left his own self, few hours ago. Just filled a bag with some things and went on his way."

"They'll come back, Mal." Inara met his gaze. "When they can…."

He shook his head.

"What are they comin' back to?" he murmured. "Serenity's not gonna fly no more, Nara."

"It's not Serenity they'll come back to, Mal. It's you."

---

TOWN OF SWEET LEAF, BELLEROPHON, ONE MONTH LATER

In the kitchen of his small apartment, Amos Kane prepared a simple supper for himself. He burnt the toast, but the eggs were nice and runny and the asparagus fresh. Kane washed it all down with a glass of Chardonnay, rinsed his plate in the small sink and settled in to watch the Cortex before bed.

He had two messages waiting. He hadn't missed the waves—in fact he'd been home all day. He just wasn't in the mood for chatter, choosing instead to spend the hours reading. Now, he poured himself a third glass of the wine and touched the icon over the first message.

"Mr. Kane? It's Jessamyn."

He squinted, halfcocked, at the redhead on the screen.

"Mr. Kane." Her voice shook noticeably. "I think I'm being followed…."

With clumsy fingers, Kane switched over to the next wave.

"Howdy, Mr. Kane; Mayella here. Me and Monty, well we just wanted to see how the new room's suitin' ya. Hope you got enough space over there, and that you're settling in alright….yup, reckon that's it. So you just feel free to send me a wave. Bye, now."

Disgusted, Kane closed that window as well. He knew trusting her and Monty was a mistake. Even now, they were probably thinking on selling him out to the highest bidder.

Well, they wouldn't get their blood money. He'd leave first thing in the morning. He just needed a few hours rest before he could summon the energy to pack.

Kane put his feet up on the sofa, a battered beige plaid that came free with the apartment. It was old and battle-scarred, but then so was Amos. Old age. She was a wily mistress; in truth, Amos never expected he'd live this long. Revolutionaries so rarely enjoyed the luxury of longevity. It was funny, really. In his head, he felt exactly as he had at twenty. His body, on the other hand….He could recall youth and energy and exuberance like old friends who'd long since stopped calling.

Like Quentin. Lucky bastard got to be young and handsome forever while Amos, Amos was turned old and ugly by the years.

--Would you berate me for what I've done, Webb? Because I feel no remorse. Not an ounce. Some people have to suffer to be saved.

He could imagine Quentin's laugh--a hollow sound that weaved pale and ghostly through the air, flowed into his ears.

--Jesus, Amos. Do you invent that go suh? Or did you check out the book? 'Illegal Insurrection For Idiots'….

Oh, how he'd missed Quentin all these years. Finding Mal had been a bit like having his best friend back. He saw so much of Quentin in the boy--the quiet strength of his shoulders, that gaze: strong, steady and unwavering. The father was more refined, but the son inherited his magnetism. A raw, rugged quality, aggravatingly attractive.

--Quentin...I'm sorry, Quentin. I wanted to bring them down for you. Take down the government that destroyed you, and do it with your boy at my side.

Dear God, he was tired.

With a soft sigh that barely stirred the air, Kane rested his head on the sunken old armrest. He dozed, and in his dreams, he dreamed of the old days. He and Quentin and Derrial and Emmy. Dancing at the Colonade, and that holiday they all took down by the seashore. Emmy wore that ridiculous hat—the one she insisted was all the rage on Osiris. And every night they drank mint-mango mojitos till they were good and toasted and sang silly songs and passed out on the sand...

---

Through a dusty, spider-webbed window pane, Jayne watched Amos Kane sleep. The heels of his boots sank into soil still wet from the previous night's drenching.

He crouched behind the brush, still, waiting. In a couple more hours, he'd lose his drunk and be all manner o' sober. Without the alcohol in his system, he found that breathin' was a struggle. He planned on being back in his rented room long before sobriety reared her ugly head. He'd get himself a bottle of the amber elixir and maybe a girl with sweet, forgiving eyes. Last night, he tried to find one what looked like her. Worked out okay till she was riding him, and she threw her hair back. She opened her eyes, and what stared back at him weren't River's eyes. He went limp as a noodle inside of her.

Tonight, he'd find himself a blond, one with big tits and freckles. He'd drive into her until he couldn't see River's face no more.

Safety off. Inhale, hold, pre-squeeze the trigger. Exhale. By the time the Feds arrived to collect their package, Amos Kane would be naught but a corpse. Good of May to tell Jayne where to find him. She and Mal made it good and easy, settin' up Kane this way. Almost like Mal wanted Jayne to shoot the bastard.

He never meant to love her. Surely he didn't mean to love her so poorly. Girl was right--wasn't enough. Not even close.

Wiggling his toes a little to return the circulation, Jayne adjusted his stance in the cool, moist dirt. This part, at least, he'd get right. He was always real good with the killing bit. Mal knew it--hell, it was why the cap'n hired him. Ruttin' stupid to pretend otherwise, to pretend he was a man capable of lovin' and feelin'--feelin' somethin' when someone who mighta meant somethin' went and got herself dead.

Jayne raised Vera and shot a neat little hole through the glass and right through Amos Kane's heart.

He killed for her like he'd killed for her before. He killed because it was the only course left him. What else was there to do? Was his own fault, Jayne figured. His own fault for lovin' her too much and not near enough...

---

OSIRIS, CAPITAL CITY, TAM FAMILY ESTATE

"You wanna go in alone?"

His sweet Kaylee, with her lopsided hair twists, her soft blue jacket as familiar as skin. Kaylee, who could make him blush just by -looking- at him.

"I don't. Stay with me...please?"

Her brown eyes went soft, and she took a hold of his hand.

"Always."

He worried about her for awhile. Even through his own grief, he had the vague, nagging fear that her heart would forever be ruptured: torn down its center like Serenity. Bad poetry and...just plain wrong. But then he'd never been one to use words well. He was a doctor, a man of science. And an atheist, though, unlike Mal who just couldn't help himself, Simon had been wise enough to keep said information from Book. But he was wrong to think this would destroy her. Kaylee was so, incredibly strong. Stronger than he.

"Someone's coming," he murmured, squinting through the glass.

"I got you, Simon. Not goin' nowhere."

He had a vague flash of the children they might one day have. A son who looked like his mother. A little boy with Kaylee's unwavering optimism and her pretty brown eyes. The urge to protect this child was sudden and fierce. It was the first time he'd thought about the future since he kissed his sister's still blue lips.

The door opened, and he saw his mother. He stiffened, feet itching to turn and run. It was only Kaylee's presence beside him, and the warm press of her fingers on his that kept him from fleeing.

Regan Tam looked as though she'd aged ten years in two. She wore plain gray pants and a black sweater that buttoned up over her neck. Even though he could feel the heat emitting from the house, she looked terribly cold.

"Simon?"

Her voice cracked on the words.

"Oh, God, Simon."

Tears filled her eyes, and when she blinked they spilled in twin rivers over her newly lined cheeks.

"Simon," Kaylee whispered, but he couldn't move. He stood, frozen on the front porch, unable to go to her, take her in his arms. So Kaylee did it for him.

"Mrs. Tam?" she murmured, arms extended.

He watched his wife enfold his mother in a tight hug, watched his mother squeeze Kaylee like her own daughter.

"River...oh, my little girl."

They stood there a long time, embracing on the doorstop.

---

BRANDYWINE TOWNSHIP, SILVERHOLD, THREE MONTHS LATER

"Nice place you have here, Captain. It's very...homey."

The shepherd strolled the sun-drenched kitchen, glancing his fingertips over countertops colored the deep blue of the sea. He opened the icebox and peered inside. Mal watched, amused, as he counted the neat row of jams. Brandywine was famous for it's jam, and Parson's wife had already sent over a passel.

"Yeah, well. Can thank that Trevor fella, seein' as he's the one loaned me the credit to buy it. Just a loan, mind you. I ain't one for acceptin' charity."

"No, don't 'spose you are. Heard you got a new career path, by the by."

"Yeah." Mal shrugged. "We'll see how it goes. Just, you know, figured Inara deserves some things. I'm of the mind to give 'em to her, those I'm able anyways."

Book smiled, and took a seat at the table.

"She seems very content with you."

"It's worth musing on," Mal agreed, and sat as well. "Don't know how I keep her my own self."

"Oh, I reckon it goes both ways. Looks like you'll be having a full house again soon enough."

"Yeah." Mal hid a smile. "Doc and Lil' Kaylee's comin' back next week. Gonna stay with Nara nd me till they get on their feet."

"Top three percent and the mechanic marvel--I'm sure they'll find work."

"Yeah, not too worried about them," Mal agreed.

"And Zoe? How are she and little Raven faring?"

"Fine. Good. Kid don't shut up from what I hear."

Book smirked.

"Anyway, pair of 'em ain't more 'n a few days ride by boat."

"You miss her."

"Guess that's so. Zoe and me--we ain't been apart more 'n a few weeks since the War. Still, woman wants to try her hand at farming, figure I ain't got call to stop her. Not that, you know, I could. She hits hard, Preacher."

"Oh, I've no doubt." Book chuckled. "But I was referring to Serenity, Mal."

"Yeah." Mal cleared his throat. "Miss her, too. But what I got now means more 'n metal and spinny bits."

"Without question."

"Still...she was one fine boat."

"The finest," Book agreed. "She carried you here, brought you to the man you are today. And that man--he's alright, I think."

"Stop that now, I'm like to blush."

Book smiled, one eyebrow cocking curiously.

"Any word from Jayne?"

"Naw, not yet. Though, to be honest, Preacher, I ain't expecting it. Figure he'll come when he's ready."

"I imagine that's so." Book coughed. "Wasn't sure I'd be welcome here anymore myself, boy. Thought, when you learned the truth, you might not want me dropping by on you."

"Took me some time to come around, Shepherd. But, you and me, we're good."

"I'm glad, Mal. I knew you had it in you."

"Had what...in me?"

Book looked surprised.

"Faith, of course."

"Preacher, me and Him are a long way from right. Still, reckon holdin' your breath won't hurt you any."

"Boy, how many ways do I have to say it? Ain't about God. It's about belief, and, well, hope."

"Hope, huh. Guess I am feelin' a mite more hopeful these days. Might be things are different here on in. Folk can't rightly ignore what went down at that shindig. Too many corpses, and this time they're close to home. Easy enough to deny the truth when you don't have to look on it every day, when you ain't seein' it in your own backyard. This time, though—seems people are bound to take notice.

"As it is, half the bigwigs in Parliament went down at the ball, good bunch of the military heads 'swell. Could be Alliance sees fit to make some changes, new blood and the like. Maybe it turns out River's sacrifice weren't for nothing. Emperor Chou and his people—they were real grateful. Wanted her body laid to rest in the Royal Burial Grounds. Was all we could do to convince 'em otherwise. Don't mean I think it's a fair trade, but…but maybe it weren't all for nothin'. If'n things change even a little, it won't have been for nothin'."

"That was all I ever wanted from you, son. That you believe in -something-…and maybe swear a mite less."

Mal smirked.

"Do got the tykes to consider now. Can't be raisin' 'em to curse like space sailors…not that Inara's like to let me."

"Something tells me she'll make those children a fine mama. River's glad for that."

"Yeah. Figured she would be. How, uh…" Mal tugged absently on the bridge of his nose. "How is she? Lil' Albatross…."

"Would you accept my assurances? After all, you don't believe I'm really here."

"Now, now. No need to get snarky, Shepherd. Maybehaps you just say your piece, let me work on the whole faith bit."

Book chuckled, a rolling belly laugh that made Mal smile, too. The shepherd reclined in his chair, locking his hands behind his head as he pondered.

"She's alright, I think. I'm not sure how to explain where she is, Mal. Never did claim to understand the girl." He smiled, eyes warm and thoughtful. "Maybe it's easier to tell you what's she not. She's not cold or frightened or hurting. She's not that innocent child stolen by the Academy, but neither is she the broken one her brother stole back. She isn't missing those parts anymore. She's well in places pills could never reach, safe beyond the protection of any gun. In an odd way, she's exactly as you and Simon wanted her."

"Except she ain't breathin'." His voice wavered, and he coughed to cover the dip. "She lonely?"

"She is, Mal. She's a little lonely. But she's patient, too. One thing about bein' where we are—it doesn't seem so hurried."

"She deserved, I don't know, more. Shoulda got to walk down an aisle in some shiny dress, have a baby if she wanted. Shoulda had the chance to know the ones she's already got." He shook his head, fury sparking in his eyes. "Bastard robbed her of that. Robbed those kids, too."

"Being angry with God…it's kinda like being angry at traffic, or the weather…or taxes. Ain't exactly gonna accomplish a lot in the long run."

"Preacher, I been avoiding all three for goin' on eight years."

They laughed, together, again.

"Well, boy. It was good to see you."

"Always do enjoy our chats, Preacher."

"As do I, Mal." He patted a hand against the captain's cheek. "As do I. Unfortunately, there's a couple folk waiting on me. Think there's someone waiting on you as well."

"That a fact?"

"Of course it's a fact, Mal. Do you think I'd lie to your daughter?"

He opened his eyes, squinting into the morning sunlight. Inara lay beside him, her dark, tumbling hair haloed in gold, his infant daughter curled close to her breast.

He was fairly certain he hadn't seen a sweeter sight in all his years.

"It's true, Epiphany." Inara nuzzled the baby's neck. "Your father does so snore, doesn't he, sweetheart?"

Mal smirked and sat up, scratching a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, didn't hear her cryin'."

"She wasn't. When I woke, you were still sleeping; I thought I'd look in on the twins." She lifted a shoulder, and the strap of her nightgown inched down her arm. He bent his head to kiss the sun-warmed flesh, and she smiled. "This young lady was awake, watching her stars and moons mobile very intently. I suppose that proves she's her father's daughter."

"Guess that's so." He stroked the dark, silken strands of the baby's hair while she dozed.

A cry breached the quiet of the bedroom.

"That'll be her brother." Mal shrugged. "Reckon I oughta go see to the lad."

"Smile any harder and you'll lose that Cold-as-the-Black reputation." "Inara...you think I like gettin' up with 'em? You think it tickles me that all my good shirts smell of spit-up?"

"You don't have any good shirts, Mal." She smiled affectionately and traced her fingers over his nose. "And, yes. I think you love it."

"Well...yeah." He grinned. "Still, this is serious. You realize we ain't havin' sex for the next eighteen years."

"We had sex last night, Mal."

"Yeah, but...that was last night."

"You, Captain, are incorrigible."

"If that means horny for ya, then, ya, darlin'; I surely am. I like when you call me 'Captain' by the by."

She settled Epiphany's sleeping form into his arms after pressing one last kiss to the child's temple.

"Hurry back. Captain."

---

Sunlight pierced the curtains, smuggled through the blinds to warm the room and the sheets, Inara's skin under his fingers. He made love to her mouth, plunging the sweet depths with his tongue in a reverent imitation of their coupling. He filled her slowly, savoring each sweep of her fingers, every breathy moan of pleasure he could pull from her lips. She rose to meet his thrusts, squeezing him with slender, golden thighs, steering him toward his release.

"Inara?"

Her skin was soft and dewey from sex, eyes easy and languid. He pressed a kiss to the center of her chest.

"Inara, tell me somethin'. Truthsome."

"Alright."

"This ain't the life you dreamt of as a lil' girl..."

She smiled.

"No," she admitted. "It wasn't this."

"Do you ever--?"

She lifted a hand to his lips.

"I don't ever." She drew her lips over his temple, sliding kisses along his cheeks and chin before settling on his mouth. "No regrets, Mal. Not a single one."

"Yeah. Yeah, me either."

He nuzzled her hair, buried his face in the heady, heavy black and was sated.

---

end

Epilogue To Come. Log in and leave me feedback!


	32. Epilogue

Bed and Wine: The Epilogue

By Kaynara

---

AN: Thanks to Grimlock, for all his hard work and devotion. Keep an eye out for his upcoming series in the BSR.

AN2: For Joss. If Buffy is my security blanket, Firefly is my favorite bedfellow.

Huh. That went well...

---

"I need to talk to you, Daddy."

"Shoot."

"Would you like something cold to drink? A beer maybe?"

"Would I like a--are the feds gonna be here in a minute?" He reaches out to give her ponytail a tug. "Did you and your brother knock over another 'Liance hospital?"

"Daddy." She bites her lip to conceal a smile. "I need you to be serious."

"What's the news, Little Lark?"

"I've started my menstrual cycle."

He blinks a few times. He tries to swallow, finds he can't quite summon the saliva.

"Huh," he manages at last.

"Daddy. It's okay." Her tone soothes, her motions graceful, economic even as she takes his hand and leads him to the sofa. She sits beside him, folding long, slender legs beneath her. "You're looking very pale."

Her long-lashed eyes blink at him, concerned.

She is her mother's daughter. Both of her mothers' daughter.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, Skylark?"

"What are you gonna do?"

"Build up a powerful resentment 'gainst your mama?"

"Da-deee." She tosses her hair, its heavy sable length reaching halfway to her hips now. The womanly gesture seems at odds with her girlish tone.

"It's okay. No call to panic. Who's panicking?" He brushes a hand over her temple. "How you feelin'? You okay?"

"Ovulation isn't a disease, Daddy." She rolls blue-gray eyes at the ceiling. "I'm not sick."

"That's funny 'cuz I'm feelin' a mite ill. Skylark, didn't your mama talk to you 'bout this stuff? Give you some tips maybe?"

"She said it was a beautiful thing. She said we'd celebrate when it happened." The eleven year old meets his gaze. "She said a couple more years."

"Did she now? Remind me to thank her for that."

She blinks at him, waiting. His own eyes starin' outta that sweet little face, saying, "Daddy, fix it." He remembers the four year old what brought him headless dolls.

"She needs surgery, Daddy. Head transplant, I'll assist."

Kid does spend too many hours 'round her uncle.

Back then, Mal would lift her up on his hip, carry her small, snugly body to the kitchen counter. She'd swing her legs while he glued bitty doll heads onto stubby necks.

"There you go, Skylark. Shiny as a shiny thing."

He'd kiss her rounded cheeks and come out lookin' the hero. What he wouldn't give for a decapitated doll nowabouts.

"Are you gonna be okay, Daddy?"

He smiles for her, hopes it's reassuring.

"Know what we're gonna do? Gonna 'wave your Aunt Kaylee. She's a girl, ain't she? Bound to know 'bout...girl stuff."

The kid makes a face.

"What? You love Kaylee."

"Of course I do." Her tone is patient, as though addressing a small child. "Except..."

" 'Cept what?"

"She'll get all misty-eyed. Start crying 'bout me being a woman now."

Mal nods.

"I might just cry over that my own self."

Kaylee isn't home, but Simon answers the wave. Mal thinks about waving Emmy, but the kid seems to prefer her uncle on this one. He gives them some privacy, deciding he can be useless just as easy in the other room. And the doc is good in these instances. Has a way o' makin' his voice all soothing-like. Mal can recall the first time the babes were sickly. Inara was hysterical, Mal more than halfway there his own self. They waved Simon, and he hurried over even though it was middle of the night and raining, and him havin' to work in the morning.

"Simon!" Inara squeezes him with enough emphasis to have Mal wincing. "I don't know what to do! Oh, they're too little to be in pain."

Doc fixes it all right, with kind words and cool hands.

Three years hence, Simon's there when Nara takes that bullet: the one meant for Mal.

She shoots the hwoon dan with her own gun, the bitty one he bought her all those years ago. She shoots the man who hurt her because Mal isn't there to save her the having to.

When his old pal Jeb Parsons first suggests the thing--him taking up the job of town sheriff--Mal about busts a gut with the laughing.

"Aw c'mon now, Mal. Ain't so wild a notion. Did you ever imagine me a mayor back in the day?"

"Well, no. No. To be truthsome, I'm still havin' some trouble on that front."

He chuckles, the guffaw turning to wince as Parsons sends a meaty fist into his shoulder.

"Now if you really think on it, you as sheriff ain't such a stretch."

It's getting serious--Parsons has that gleam in his eye. Mal starts to panic.

"I'm a criminal. A pirate. I smuggle geisha dolls and--and crash Alliance parties! Also, did ya happen to notice the treason on my resume? Not just treason, mind you. -High treason.- That's a hanging crime, you know..."

"Don't that make you sorta interesting? Anyhow, no one gives much thought to the Alliance out here. You're a father, Mal--a family man. Daddy to two of the sweetest little babes ever graced the town of Brandywine."

"Jeb..."

"Aw, Mal, half your jobs was of the law enforcing variety anyways. You said your crew took out some bandits were birddogging the Triumph settlers."

"And that worked out just swell, let me tell ya--"

"And you put down that Burgess fella over at the Heart of Gold--"

"Jeb, they were whores! They paid us with--"

"Didn't you do some fine reconnaissance work over on Shadow? Believe you mentioned something 'bout exposing Blue Sun's activities thereabouts."

"Well, okay, yeah. But sheriff, Jeb?"

"Not to mention your years in the war, and...Miranda." He lowers his eyes respectfully, knowing the name and all it's implication are still sensitive turf. "Face it, Mal. Do-gooding's in your blood."

It ain't bad work. Brandywine's not exactly big city, and people round here tend to help each other. Mal's glad to do what he can. He misses the old ways--be a lie to claim otherwise--but Inara still calls him pirate in the privacy of their own bed, and that helps more 'n a mite. Inara.

She never shoulda got hurt. It's Mal this fella wants dead, Mal who busted the son of a bitch for beatin' on his wife and boys. But Mal's out on a last minute call, and Nara drops by after her dance class. She does that from time to time--surprises him. She surprises this bastard, who's lying in wait with a gun.

He smacks her around some--Mal can see the bruises under the clinic brights. When his eyes tear up, he doesn't bother attributing them to the lights. Bastard meant to shoot her, leave her dead on the floor as a gift for the sheriff. But Inara--she never does do what's expected. She carries the gun still--how is it he don't know that about her, how's it she's still a mystery to him when they sleep together, when he knows her body well as his own? She takes the gun and shoots him twice, once through the chest--a near perfect mark--and then again, this one a little to the side, as though her hands started to shake.

She fades in and out of consciousness on account of them having only a local to give her. Mal holds her hand while Simon digs the bullet from her shoulder. Mal leans near her ear and whispers craziness, oaths and endearments, silly stories and promises. Anything to keep her eyes clear, keep her from leaving him.

"I'm sorry. So sorry." He whispers it over and over, and buries his nose in the curve of her neck.

"Shhh," she intones and strokes his hair with her soft, weak hand.

She sleeps for a long time and when she wakes up, he brings her daisies.

"Confound it, woman." He holds her palm to his cheek. "I'm like to think you jumped in fronta that gun purely for the glory."

"You know me; I'm an attention whore." A ghostly smile lifts her pale lips, and she tilts her head to inhale the flowers.

"Ai ya, if you ain't a brat." He presses his lips to her temple, knowing she can feel them tremble. Just then he doesn't much care. "Sweet Ye su, you scared me."

"Now you know how I feel. I told you I'd get shot one day." But her tone is gentle, forgiving.

"And you always havin' to be right..."

She smiles and strokes his hair with her good hand.

"Well, 'pears there's but one solution. You're gonna hafta stoop to marryin' me."

"Shuh muh?"

When she's well enough, he takes her away for a day and marries her.

"If'n you wanted a big party, the sort with flowers and streamers and sweets…."

"No," she says and smiles. "I don't want any of that."

They leave the children with Kaylee and Simon and drive till they find a place. It's dusk when she tells him to stop the mule. He follows her line of sight to a tall, stone steeple, half hidden in the autumn foliage. The air tastes crisp and clean as he helps her from the mule. Her hands clasp his shoulders, and he holds on to her waist an extra second, not wanting to let go—not ever.

The leaves crunch under his boots, under the heels of her tall, silly sandals. She stumbles, and he catches her small hand in his bigger one, gives it a light squeeze and smiles. She raises a delicate brow in warning. -Not one word, Malcom Reynolds.- Seein' as he wants to marry her something fierce, he doesn't say a word, just raises their joined palms to his lips and kisses her hand.

The chapel is small and gothic, and the last rays of the setting sun pour in through stained-glass windows as they say vows. She's wearing tan pants and a plain white blouse, and her hair's all bound back in a sleek tail that hangs over her shoulder. Her eyes shine dark, and her cheeks glow pink from the cold. He tries to listen to the shepherd, but the man's sorta rambling, and Mal can't get over how -young- she looks of a sudden: like a teenager, run off to elope over her daddy's objections. Suddenly, he feels every etch and line on his face. Sweet Ye su, what's she doing marrying him?

It appears she's inclined to tell him.

"I can't say I predicted this, Mal. To be honest, I never thought we'd end up here." She gestures to their surroundings--the church, the preacher. "But I knew two things with perfect certainty. I knew we'd make love one day, know each other as lovers. And I knew we'd make each other cry. It was too much to hope we'd make each other happy. Do you know when I fell in love with you?"

He just shakes his head, sorta stupid-like, on account of his throat being too thick for words.

"I know the exact moment. It was when you were stabbed."

The preacher starts to fidget in earnest now.

"Which time?" Mal asks.

"Atherton. You bled all over my dress--"

"--was a real nice dress--"

She smiles, her eyes going misty.

"I forgive you."

He wants to say something pretty for her, too. Trouble is, he's never had the words.

" 'Member a few years back--more 'n a few now--when Zoe and me robbed the medicine off that train. We got held up by the local law, and you had to come in and pull us out."

"I remember."

"Well...remember how you slapped me?"

She smiles--the preacher's looking all manner of shocked.

"Well, that's when I knew," Mal says, and clips a strand of hair behind her ear. "Didn't think you'd ever...consent to havin' me in your bed." The last he uttered beneath his breath, in deference to the whole church bit. "But I knew sure as I know anything, I'd spend the rest of my days wantin' you there."

They do the bit with the rings. He kisses her, and she's warm and tart like the apple cider they drank on the road.

The trip back is oddly somber. She keeps looking at her finger, twisting the band of gold as though it doesn't quiet belong.

Home, when they get there, feels strange. It's a good few minutes before he realizes it's the quiet. Two kids—even teeny tiny ones—tend to make an awful lot of ruckus. He figures his must be special, seein' as they're extra boisterous.

It's late by the time they're settled in the kitchen, eyeing each other over the table where Nara set out tea with cups and saucers. Every once in awhile, one of 'em looks up and the other smiles.

"Nothing's changed," she tells him after long moments of silence. "We're still the same."

He shakes his head.

"Everything's changed."

"I only meant--"

"Inara."

"Yes?"

"Come to bed." He meets her gaze. "I wanna take my wife to bed."

She takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom.

They have a week's honeymoon in the little house. He feels badly on that note, not bein' able to afford a real holiday. Still, it's a good week. He likes just lyin' in bed with her, half awed by the sight of his ring on her finger. He likes making love to her in their big bed, anchoring her to his hips, latching on to her nipple as she rides him like a stallion. He likes burying his face in her hair, breathing her in--all smoke and jasmine--as he groans his release into the soft, riotous black of her hair. He likes pretending they have forever.

She hopes they'll make a baby that week. Lil' Kaylee is four months along then. Every day, she drops by, askin' if she looks fat yet. (Neither Mal nor Simon can figure how best to answer that one.) Sometimes Mal thinks it might not be for the best, her and Kaylee spendin' all this time together now. Course, Inara won't have it any other way. She knits booties and blankets and helps Kaylee scour the Cortex for baby names. Still, Mal knows it hurts her some to see. He knows she wants one of her own, wants to see his child growing inside her. He doesn't know how to say it don't matter, that all he ever wanted, all he was ever lacking, is her.

Skylark especially seems to have a sense about it: her mama's moods. One Christmas in particular, everyone spends the whole week fussin' over Kaylee's new baby. Inara watches it all, a dreamy expression on her face. Love and suffering all wrapped up in those big black eyes of hers. Mal makes a move to go to her but Kaylee grabs his hand.

"Cap'n."

Long after Serenity is scrap metal, Kaylee keeps callin' him Captain. Some days the word tears his chest up like a razor blade. Sometimes it makes him remember the good times: His and Simon's sci fi marathons up on the bridge. Wash's dirty jokes and water pistol wars and slow, easy evenings of storytelling. Avoiding the shepherd's sermons and arm wrestling Kaylee and long poker games with Zoe and Jayne. Dancing with River on the catwalk. Kissin' Inara senseless--hell, they kissed each other senseless--up on the bridge. Talkin' to Inara's tummy. Cupping its swell and making plans, promises...

"Cap'n, hold Sari while I get a capture."

"Kaylee, what makes you think I wanna hold your kid?" As a matter of fact, he does; critter's awful cute. But this way she gets to wheedle and plead and wrestle him into a chair.

"Sit your butt down, Cap'n Tightpants," she teases, drawing laughs from the others.

"Daddy? Who's Captain Tightpants."

"No clue, Starling. Your Aunt Kaylee's crazed," he adds, earning himself a whack on the butt.

Over a bald little head, he meets Nara's eyes. She smiles at him, and he smiles back. We're fortunate, her smile seems to say. We're lucky to be alive, together. We couldn't have it all. We shouldn't expect it all.

Sometimes the River bits of the kids really shine through. Now's one o' those times. Skylark climbs up on the sofa, slides into her mama's lap like she knows she's needed there. Inara's arms just slip around his daughter as though it's the most natural thing in the 'verse. It's in these moments that Mal feels most grateful. He lets go of the losses, losing the war, the Shepherd and Wash. Losing the ship that was his home and savior all those years. Losing River.

He looks at his wife and his daughter, and he sees beauty.

Epiphany don't read minds like her mother. She just...intuits. She knows when you need a hug, knows when to crawl into your lap and be quiet. She knows when the doc is missing his sister somethin' fierce, knows to be like River then. Mal can't say how she does it exactly. She just holds her head a certain way, smiles a certain way. And like both her mothers, she can dance.

Simon looks at the girl and sees his sister: an innocent little baby before the bad men took her away. Before they broke her. Mal mostly just sees Inara. It's Inara who brushes her silken hair. It's Inara who teaches her French and Chinese, instructs her in piano and writing and ballet.

It's Inara who tells the stories of Serenity, stories of their mother.

"Mama!" Inara is mama; both kids call River 'mother.' "Mama, tell us how our mother slayed the monsters."

"Again?" Inara presses kisses to the sweet spot in her daughter's neck, tousles her son's soft brown hair. "You just heard that story."

"Fine." Devon lets out a long-suffering sigh and climbs into her lap. "Then tell the one where she takes out Uncle Jayne."

"That man ain't your uncle," Mal grumbles, but Inara just smiles, elbows him in the ribs. Kids seem to adore Jayne for some reason. But Jayne doesn't visit much. Once every few years at best, or sometimes he's at Carly's when they visit. None of 'em say it, but Mal knows lookin' at Lark and Starling hurts Jayne. He looks at the twins and sees the woman he failed to save.

Ten years--blink and you'll miss 'em.

After, Epiphany gets done with Simon, she and Mal sit together on the sofa. A film feed streams in over the Cortex, and Epiphany rests her head on Mal's shoulder, only half watching the movie. He leans over and presses a kiss to her hair.

"Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"Maybe I was just a -bit- perturbed. Earlier, I mean."

"Just a bit? Well, 'spect that's okay since I was damn near hysterical."

She raises a brow.

"You're being dramatic, Daddy."

"Skylark, you're old man ain't dramatic."

"Oh, 'course not. Silly me." She rolls her eyes, so very Inara it takes the breath from him.

---

Later, he and Inara lie in bed. He's accustomed to her incense now, knows what scent to expect given her mood. Lavender when she's feeling taxed, vanilla for sentiment. When she lights sandalwood, she wants to make love. Tonight, she burns juniper.

"Do you know why I told Epiphany two more years?"

"As a fun surprise for me?"

"-I- was thirteen, Mal. When I started mine..."

"Okay. Didn't maybe need to know that, but--"

"Don't you see? It's hereditary. I told her how old I was...I didn't even think to ask Simon about his family, about River..."

"Inara. You raised her, sung her to sleep nights, worried when she was sickly. They're yours as much as they're mine. As much as they're River's."

"I still should have thought to ask."

"Stop that." He tugs her back against his chest, threads their hands over her belly. "Skylark's shiny. Both our kids is shiny."

"She said you were very brave." Inara reaches around to stroke his cheek.

"Damn right. Almost passed out for a minute there. But then the kid waved some smelling salts, and I came 'round."

"Mal? Make love to me?"

And it ain't even a sandalwood night. He does like that she keeps him on his toes.

---

Devon sits in his mama's lap. He plays absently with her hair, a habit he's had since he was but a baby, and fixes his eyes on Kaylee's big belly.

"I know where babies come from," he announces with four-year old assuredness.

Mal raises a brow. Inara just shrugs, lips twitching with humor.

"Where's that, Starling?" he asks, a little weary.

"Uncle Simon."

Mal snickers.

Across the room, Simon looks up from his pie.

"What was that?"

"Simon!" Kaylee swats at his arm. "He's too young to be knowin' that stuff."

Simon is incredulous.

"What exactly do you think I told him?"

"Don't blame Simon, Daddy." Epiphany rushes to her idol's defense. "Dev and I figured it all on our own."

"Did you now?" Mal has a bad feeling. More of a premonition, really. He looks at his four-year-old twins and sees the future. Teenagers with their mother's brains, their mama's wiles and their daddy's predilection for bending—okay, breaking—every rule in the book. And a few on little sticky notes. -Sweet Ye Su, shoot me now.-

"Yup." Skylark seems damned proud of herself too.

"You gonna enlighten the rest of us?" Mal tugs on her pigtail.

She turns to her brother. From the time they was babies, twins could communicate whole dialogues with just a few looks.

"Wellll." Devon shrugs. "Starts when Aunt Kaylee gets fat."

"Hey!" Kaylee protests. "You're lucky you're too far away to be tickled to death."

Devon just grins and snuggles back into the safety of his mama's lap.

"And then," Epiphany continues, "Aunt Kaylee goes to see Simon, and Simon gives her the baby. But not for two more months. Right?" She looks to Inara for confirmation.

Inara nods, lips curving in amusement.

"Where am I storing the baby in the mean time?" Simon asks, intrigued.

Mal shoots him a death glare to discourage future questioning. Simon ducks, sheepish.

"And," Devon adds, "There's something to do with kissing. Ick." He makes a face.

"Oh, you think so, do you?" Inara pokes a finger under his arm, presses kisses to his cheeks while he squirms.

"No kissing!" he says, breathless.

"Gosh, Cap'n." Kaylee grins. "He sounds so much like you."

Mal throws a pillow at her.

---

The boy climbs through the window of his pitch-black bedroom. The light clicks on before he takes two steps. He swallows a gulp.

"Wanna tell me what you're doin'?"

"No, not particularly."

"Devon Quentin Reynolds. My patience is waning faster 'n you can say 'grounded till I'm thirty.' " Dear God, he sounds like his own mama back on Shadow. "Let's try this again: whaddaya think you're doin'?"

"Being stealthy." Devon has Inara's fine diction down, even if he often peppers her speech pattern with Rim slang.

"No, son, bein' stealthy means -not- gettin' busted creepin' through your bedroom window. Wanna try again?"

There's that smirk. He may have his mother's eyes, but the smirk is all Mal.

"Failing at being stealthy?" Devon also has River's rather cunning ability to be accurate while conveying no actual information.

"Keep goin', boy. Just makin' it worse on yourself."

"Oh, this is such go-suh! Like you never snuck out when you were fifteen!"

"HA!" Mal shouts triumphantly. "So you did sneak out!"

The 'duh' expression on the kid's face is so River it hurts some to behold.

"Not the point. Raised you better. Well, your mama did anyways. 'Sides, I got caught sneaking out, your gran'mama woulda took a belt to my butt."

The kid takes a cocky step closer. There's that smirk again.

"You're welcome to try, old man."

Mal raises a brow, changes his mind and sniffs the boy's clothes.

"Lilies... rice wine--we'll talk about your drinkin' in a bit. And antiseptic."

Devon takes a fast step back, but it's too late.

"Only one place you'd go to get that particular combination of smells. You were visiting Katie. Weren't you?"

"So what if I was?" Devon isn't of a mind to back down tonight.

Mal lowers himself to the bed. Ai ya, he can't even bring himself to punish the kid.

"Sit down, Starling. Somethin' you gotta understand."

Devon jerks back.

"What's to understand? You don't approve of her. Ye su, Dad, the girl I love is dying, and you still can't let go of thirty-year old go suh!"

"That ain't it at all." Mal has to think a moment. "Ain't just that. Girl's an innocent. Her father and his cronies, though--they was part of some bad stuff back in the day."

"They helped fund BSB." Devon smiles at Mal's surprise. "Epi and I hacked what was left of Blue Sun's Coretx files a few weeks ago. We thought they might be able to help Katie." Devon looks out the window so his father can't see his tears. "Without treatment, she only has six months. And her parents...they can't afford--"

"I'm sorry, son." Mal lets the kid get ahold of himself. He reaches over and plucks a stray flower petal off the boy's coat. Devon winces.

"Don't—"

Mal raises a brow.

"What did you and Katie get up to tonight?"

Devon glowers a moment or two.

"Nothing," he admits finally.

"Nothin'?" Mal doesn't think the kid's lying. Still, they're a couple o' teenagers. "That so?"

"Nothing much." He shrugs, hurting too badly to be smart now. "She wanted us to…wants us to do it before she…but she gets these headaches now." His voice shakes; he struggles to steady it. "They're pretty bad."

Mal nods, reaches out a hand to stroke the kid's hair. Devon doesn't pull away.

"There's nothing I can do!"

It's an awful lesson to learn, that there are things in life can't be fixed. It's even more awful, learnin' it so young. Still:

"That ain't rightly so boy. How much coin does she need?"

"A lot."

"Good thing you got your mother's brains, your daddy's looks and your mamma's fine way with folk. Skylark ain't a bad recruit to grab for this little venture either."

"What are we going to do?"

Mal smiles. Oftentimes, it seems like River's genes dominate in their children. Every now and then, though…every now and then, a little bit of their daddy shines through. Like Devon refusing to lay down arms in the face of certain defeat. Makes a man mighty proud... almost proud enough to ignore the sneakin' out, the drinkin' and the sexin'. Guess he can let slide on the sexin', seein' as nothin' actually happened...

"Daddy?" Starling don't call him that much anymore. "What are we gonna do?"

Mal grins and tousles the kid's hair.

"We're gonna misbehave."

---

She's got her blouse undone: his baby girl.

Mal gets some ideas. Most of 'em involve punching.

Inara hurries to diffuse the situation.

"It's late, Brant. Why don't you run along home, sweetheart?"

"Sh-shiny, Missus Reynolds." Brant grabs his coat, careful to hold the folds in front of his lap as he half-sprints out the door. "Night, Epi…Sheriff Reynolds."

Epiphany's buttoning back up her shirt. Mal digs his knuckles into his eyelids. Ta ma de hwoon dan….

"Daddy…Daddy, you're overreacting."

She seems to favor that line. When she's nine and breaks her arm borrowing his rider, Mal overreacts. When, at fourteen, she and her brother hitchhike to their Aunt Caroline's place on Boros and spend a week learning to shoot and bass fish with Jayne, Mal once again overreacts. If the twins happen to take up drug smuggling—whatever Mal's reaction it will most surely strike Epiphany as over the top.

Inara plays the diplomat.

"Epiphany, now might not be the best time for—"

"Epi, you best be gettin' to your room," Mal says. He folds his arms over his chest, hopes to look stern.

The girl rolls her eyes.

"I'm sixteen years old."

"That thought did cross my mind," Mal agrees.

"It's not like I've never—"

"Epiphany!" Inara holds up a hand. "Do not finish that sentence. Go to your room, bao bei. Right now."

She does, with a toss of her dark hair.

Mal lowers himself to the sofa. He feels old. He feels nauseous.

Inara sits beside him, rests a smooth hand on his knee.

"You know about that?" he demands.

"Yes, Mal." She rolls her eyes. "I knew we'd return from the picture show to find our teenage daughter groping her boyfriend on the sofa."

"Ai ya! I don't require a description, darlin'. Saw it all in much-too-shiny detail."

She smiles.

"I'll talk to her, Mal."

He raises a brow.

"You don't seem all that anguished."

Inara sighs.

"She's a little young, still, I admit."

"Old enough to know better."

"And did you at that age? Know better?"

"That's…that ain't the same thing. Wholly different circumstance."

"Why, Mal?" She smiles at his silence. "Might this key disparity stem from a gender discrepancy?" She blows in his ear when she says it, opens her mouth against the sweet spot of his neck. Damned woman and her wiles.

"You know, I ain't exactly thrilled at the idea of Starling having…sex." He pronounces the word in a stage whisper, making her laugh. He likes that he can still make her laugh. When she's laughing, the 'verse is upright. It's titled when she cries.

"He's not."

Mal scowls.

"Now how do you know that?"

"He tells me things." She lifts a shoulder, as though it's inconsequential.

"What things?"

"He took Katie on a picnic last week. The last round of treatment seems to be working, Mal; she's feeling much better." Inara looks at him like he's a hero. He looks away.

"Oh. Glad to hear it."

"Go talk to your daughter. Neither of you will sleep otherwise." She nuzzles his neck. "You're both so stubborn."

"Ain't that why you love us?"

Awhile later, he raps at Epiphany's door. He learned that lesson the hard way with her mama.

"Skylark? It's me."

"I know who it is. And you can just get lost, you...hou zi de pi gu!"

"Epiphany River Reynolds! 'Less you're of a mind to lose hover mule privileges for life, I'm gonna go out on a limb and suggest you open the damn door."

She flings the door wide, marches straight back to her bed. He sees her eyes for a second. It don't take more than that to see she's been crying.

He melts. Dammit.

"Little Lark...me and you need to have a talk."

"Don't call me that."

"I--" He scratches his head, tries not to sound hurt as he asks, "Whaddaya want I should call you?"

"I'd prefer you don't speak to me at all just now." Sometimes Mal can't believe she ain't Nara's by birth. Any second now she's gonna call him a petty criminal and throw something, maybehaps a tea cup.

"Well...well, that's just too bad. Now, Epi--"

"You didn't lecture Devon!"

"Well, see, he and Katie didn't do nothin'."

"Not for lack of trying!" She rolls her eyes. "Ai ya, they did every other rutting thing except the actual rutting. Devon's almost as smart as I am, Dad. He and Katie were...creative." She smiles.

"Oh, God! Skylark, I can't be knowin' that--"

"And of course, Mama has plenty of suggestions," she continues cheerily. "What's wrong, Daddy? I mean, you've no qualms invading -my- sex life?"

"Your...your what life?" He wishes vainly for a time when all it took to make her happy was pony rides and ice planets. "Darlin', you think I like walkin' into my own livin' room and seein' what I saw?"

"You don't wanna see that?"

"Uh, no, I really don't."

She nods, big eyes wide with understanding.

"It make you uncomfortable..."

"Uh, yeah--"

"So from now on, I'll just entertain boys in my bedroom."

"Yes--no! Dammit, Epi. Just...just stop talking. Now I know you ain't of a mind to be hearin' this. But what you was doin' with that boy--well, you're too young for it."

"Daddy." She rolls her eyes, her desire to point out his utter silliness apparently trumping her want to give him the silent treatment. For now. "We were just kissing, Daddy."

"Well, no. No. Your lips are a good bit higher than where that boy's hands was."

She looks a mite guilty at this.

"You and Mama came home early." She shrugs a single shoulder, another Inara gesture, and looks sheepishly at the floor. "You said ten."

"I'll agree that was a mite bit unfortunate all around. But that ain't no excuse for--"

"I know about protection!"

"Oh, sweet Ye su."

"Mama and Aunt Kaylee showed me a book. It was illustrated."

He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that they were having this conversation, and it was gonna suck, really and truly.

"That ain't really the point, honey. It's important, mind you. Just not the only important--"

"Daddy...are you saying I can't have sex?"

She bides her time, prepares to do battle. Like her mother, she knows instinctively when to attack and when to wait.

"Daddy?"

Dear God, yes, his head hollers.

"No, Skylark." He rakes a hand over his face. "No, I ain't sayin' that."

She waits, patient. Or prepared--with her, he's never sure.

"It's just...you're awful young, honey."

"I'm almost seventeen."

"You're sixteen and a half."

"That's almost seventeen."

"That's still young. And--and I don't like that kid. Brant."

She giggles.

"You liked him last week. You told Mama he 'seemed to have his head on straight.'"

"Yeah, well...that's 'fore he grew all those hands."

"Daddy..." She spins a strand of her hair, chews her lower lip. Her big blue eyes are remorseful. "Taking off my top--well, that might have been my idea..."

Mal takes a slow, cleansing breath.

"Huh," he says at last. "Well, in that case Brant can still come callin'. He can visit with your mama and me whilst you stay locked in your room."

She giggles. Ai ya, kid's got a pretty laugh.

He reaches over to muss her hair, and for once she doesn't complain.

"Go to sleep, Skylark."

She kisses his cheek.

"Goodnight, Daddy."

---

Inara slips her arms around his waist, resting her head in the hollow between his shoulder blades.

"At ease, Captain."

"Huh? I'm just—"

"Waiting by the window with bated breath?"

He shrugs, a rueful smile settling over his features. He brings her forward so he can cuddle her proper.

"It ain't too bated…."

"It's okay, Mal. She's your best friend--you're allowed to miss her."

"I don't—miss her. Just been awhile since I seen her."

"I see," she says, and they both smile.

Raven waves him every now and again. More than her mama in earnest.

"Sir, I can't let you lead me forever. And if I stay with you any longer, it'll always be as such."

"Go suh. That ain't the way of it."

She raises a brow in challenge.

They're still on Sihnon, having reluctantly accepted Trevor's offer of room and board while the legalities are settled. In Kaylee's absence, Mal works on learning his children. Inara tries to give him space, but he just shakes his head, and settles a warm, sturdy body in her arms.

They're yours now, too, he says with his eyes. He watches his sleepy son stare up at his new mama, watches Inara balance the fleece-bundled form on her hip with an expression he ain't never seen before on features almost too beautiful to behold.

Inside, he's about cracks from the twisted coil of emotion squeezing his chest. He turns his face into his daughter's neck, and only her soft, baby skin is witness to his tears.

"Zoe, you're your own person. Just 'cuz you stay with me don't mean you gotta follow my path. I ain't your sergeant no more, haven't been for a long while. Hell, Zoe, I'm not even your captain."

Zoe just smiles. She lifts Epiphany out from Mal's arms and looks into her clear blue eyes.

"And if either one of believed that, sir, I wouldn't have to go."

Bemused, he takes Epiphany back—he's already started to think of her as his skylark; her brother's the starling—and lets Zoe slip away.

When the twins are sleeping, or occupied with Inara—she speaks to them while she applies her creams and combs her hair, tells them long, sweet stories while their big eyes study her curiously—Mal plays with Raven. They do numbers and letters, and he's witness to her first discoveries—the coolness of dew-drenched grass between her bare toes, the way dandelion fuzz tickles her nose when he blows the airy white petals into her face.

"Flower," she tells him, and he's tempted to say they're just weeds, but he doesn't.

"Flower," he agrees and spins her about like a rocket ship while she shrieks. He even does the noises.

He thinks Zoe will take her away for a good long while, and he's right. It's two years before he sees them again. A part of him hates Zoe for that, but the bigger part understands why she does it. It can't ever be like it was on Serenity. She feels the need to carve out a life of her own with what's left her. Even if he doesn't like that much, he accepts it.

Raven ain't especially drawn to farm life, though she does have a thing for horses. Zoe teaches her to ride, and on a rare visit, Mal takes her riding. Or, for truth, she takes him, leading the way on a long, moonlit trail through the woods. Her hair snaps behind her, like a long, sleek whip. She flies over the paths every bit as smooth as her daddy flew his spaceship, and the sight of it is enough to give Mal pause.

She devours books, and when she waves Mal it's to tell him of places she longs to visit, adventures that await her on land and in the Black. She's gonna leave her mama one day—Mal knows it, Zoe too, most like—and Mal wonders if his friend will come back to him then. There's a specialness between them now--Zoe and her daughter. Zoe's always given the girl space, not interfering too much with her learning and growing. Course from what Mal hears tell, Raven ain't near so much trouble as her cousin Epiphany...

Epi's excited to see her cousin. At twelve, she dotes on the girl who's already entered her teenage years—a period Mal is wholeheartedly dreading though Inara seems irritatingly blasé about the whole thing.

"Uncle Mal."

Her lips curve, and the smile is Wash's, and for a second or two the guilt is so heavy Mal can feel it draping his shoulders. Then it abates some, and he pulls the girl into a light hug.

"Heyyy. Missed you, Little Chick."

Standing on tiptoe, Raven can kiss his cheek now. Inara says she has a crush, that Mal's her first love. She seems unperturbed, telling Mal it's natural--practice, even, for the men to come. Though Mal's no more keen to think of the chick with men than he is his own baby girl, he figures it's fitting in a way; when she was born, Little Chick stirred a part of him he'd long thought dead. He loved her 'fore he knew he was still capable of the sentiment.

"Uncle Mal, can we go riding?" She stares up at him with Zoe's wide black eyes, lean arms still looped around his waist. "I've been practicing."

"Oh, reckon that can be arranged. Best go find your cousins first--they been hollerin' for you the whole damn day."

"Sir."

Zoe. She looks exactly the same, 'cept everything's changed. Her hair's cut shorter, and she's traded her vest and holster for a skirt and blouse, and that shadow in her eyes is fainter if not fully vanished. He notices something in her shoulders, too. Like she doesn't have to hold them so rigid.

"Zoe." He nods, arms folded.

Inara swirls her eyes at them both and wraps Zoe in a tight hug. Later, she'll marvel at their formality after all these years.

"You've been through war together, Mal. Friendship, sex, death...childbirth! Are you both so stubborn that you can't kiss hello?"

"Just ain't our way, Nara."

"What's so terribly wrong with showing emotion? Or, for mercy's sake, affection?"

He'll raise a brow in challenge.

"You wanna see affection?"

Her eyes widen as he advances.

"Mal--"

She'll be laughing when he tumbles her to the bed, tugs her nightgown down to cover her breasts with kisses.

Pretty soon, won't neither of 'em be laughing.

Inara's leading Zoe away by the arm.

"Come in, come inside. Will you have a cold drink? Or would you rather tea...?"

Mal turns, and his gaze fall on Epiphany, eyeing the scene from the landing.

"Hey, just sent your cousin after ya."

"I was on the Cortex."

"Oh, yeah? Talkin' to that boyfriend of yours, I suspect."

"Da-deee. Chase's and my relationship is purely platonic."

"So it's a relationship, huh."

She rolls her eyes--Mal seems to elicit that a lot when it comes to the women in his life--but permits him to kiss her temple.

"Whatcha doin' out here? Heard your mama's makin' some kinda hot cheese."

"I saw you with Raven."

"Yeah, I said she's lookin' for ya..."

Epiphany angles her head, thoughtful.

"You love her lots."

Mal frowns.

"Well, yeah. She's my niece. Your cousin. Just like Sari and the Con man."

"Mmm, no. It's different."

"Different?"

"Raven was the first. You helped Zoe with her 'cuz Uncle Wash was gone, and you fell in love though you didn't want to."

Mal blinks, surprised by the direction this is taking. Course River's kids are nothing if not surprising.

"Skylark, honey, you know I--"

"I know, Daddy. I know you love me to death--and Devon most of the time." She smirks, as any self-respecting sister would. "I'm glad you loved Raven first. It made it easier when Dev and I came around."

She grins again and bounds down the stairs in search of her cousin. Mal just shakes his head and follows. He rounds the corner, and nearly takes out Kaylee. Quickly, he grabs ahold of her shoulders to steady her.

Kaylee's got Conway on her hip. He's four now and looks sorta like Devon did at that age. His hair's just a mite too long--dark strands spill down over his eyes--and he hides his face in his mama's neck. Mal knows he'll be the last of the little ones, and the notion is wistful, if not exactly sad.

"Hi, Captain." He salutes the way Mal showed him: right hand to right eyebrow, angle upward to block out the sun.

Conway's the only one of the critters to call him captain. Mal knows it's Kaylee's doing, and he's grateful even if it stings sometimes to hear it.

"Hey, there, sailor."

Sometimes he can't get over Kaylee having babies. She weren't more than a kid herself when she showed up on his boat. Now she's mom to two.

Sarina, eight, trails the bigger girls. She's like Kaylee more 'n a little, in that she's sweet and given to smiles and always after Inara to brush her hair. If Serenity were still sailing, Mal knows Sari'd be the one to fly her. He feels a pang sometimes, knowin' she won't never get the chance.

She's dragging her feet now, all manner of downcast.

"Hey, little darlin', what's the news?"

"Raven and Epi are doing grown-up stuff."

Mal nods sagely. Grown up stuff seems to translate to talking about boys and raiding Nara's closet.

"Well, Sari, my girl. Know I ain't a fair substitute for Raven and Epi. But I'd be glad for the company."

He holds out a hand, and she smiles Kaylee's smile and slides hers inside. He's on his way to the kitchen, where Simon and Zoe and Inara can be heard laughing at some tale of Kaylee's telling, when the doorbell chimes.

"Now who could that be?"

Sari lifts her small shoulders.

"Reckon we oughta go find out."

He opens the door, and it's a surprise, but somehow not all that surprising.

"Jayne."

"Mal."

He's got a new scar--a faint pink line under his left eye. Mal can't help thinking Simon woulda sewed it up without leaving a mark. Still, it suits Jayne somehow. His hair's longer than Mal's seen it, and bleached some from the sun. He's tanned and strong-looking. Ain't much changed.

"Hey, down there."

"Hello," Sari says cheerily. As though this giant stranger blocking the doorway is an old friend.

Jayne laughs.

"Now you gotta be one o' Kaylee's."

"Jayne, Sari," Mal says by way of introduction.

"Last I saw you, you was high as my knee."

"I grew," Sari says politely.

"Well?" Mal raises a brow. "You gonna stand there lettin' in the mosquitos?"

Jayne coughs.

"No, Mal."

"Good."

Mal gives Sari's hand a squeeze and starts toward the kitchen. He cocks his head and motions for Jayne to follow.

"Dinner's on the table. Let's eat."

---

end

Thank you all for reading my rambles these last months. I sincerely hope you enjoyed. Comments much appreciated


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